PRICE FIFTY CENTS. 




1*4 

HIBEENIA; 



OK, 



IRELAND THE WORLD OVEK. 



SHOWING HOW PAT RULES AMERICA. 



historical, JJoetical, ano Statistical. 



A REPOSITORY OP 

ORIGINAL SONGS, ODES AND POEMS, WITH LEGENDS, SUPER- 
STITIONS, AND FACTS, RELATING TO THE IRISH, 
AND ILLUSTRATIVE OF THEIR WONDERFUL 
CAPACITY TO GOVERN 



BY 



J 



GEOKGE WATEKTOWN. 



Barney Doodle, ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Swings his hlack-thorn handy; 
B'gorra he's a better man 

Than Yankee Doodle Dandy." 



NEW YORK : 

THE AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY, 

AGENTS FOR THE AUTHOR. 

117, 119 & 121 NASSAU STREET. 

1871. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by 

WILLIAM C. WOOD, 
(Patent Attorney, Washington, D. C.) 

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 






•*l 



MINDFUL OF THE 
INTEGRITY, ECONOMY, AND STATESMANSHIP 



WHICH HAVE 



CHARACTERIZED THEIR MANAGEMENT OF PUBLIC AFFAIRS, AND PROMPTED 
BY A FEELING OF PROFOUND RESPECT, GRATITUDE, AND ADMI- 
RATION, THE AUTHOR OF THIS VOLUME 

DEDICATES IT 

TO THE 

^3f, £fcseii)f, ityd Fnfyfe aWelrhieo of $eto tfoit 

SUCH OF THEM AS HAVE ALREADY LOCATED IN AMERICA, 
CAN APPROPRIATE THE HONOR AT ONCE. 

SUCH AS ARE STILL IN IRELAND, 

MUST WAIT A LITTLE. 

IN THE MEANTIME, LET US HUMBLY HOPE AND TRUST THAT UNDER THE 

GUIDANCE OF TAMMANY, IRISH WISDOM WILL CONTINUE TO 

ILLUMINATE AND BLESS THE WESTERN HEMISPHERE. 

THE TIME IS NOT FAR DISTANT WHEN ALL CAN CLAIM AN INTEREST 

IN THIS 

COMPLIMENT. 



CONTENTS. 



.. +. «. ■» u- 



CHAPTER I. 

Sweet Erin an Island— Number of Counties- 
Population — The Potato-rot, Shillalah, and 
Politics— Emigration— The Irish in America 
received as Blessings in disguise— Harbors, 
Lakes, Rivers — Killarney— Kate Kearney- 
Legend of "The Blarney-stone "—The blind 
Harper and " Poor Dog Tray "—The Battle 
of the Boyne— The Bog — Its Effects on the 
Gait, Climate, Soil, etc. — Temper of the Na- 
tives displayed at Pairs and Wakes — Domes- 
tic Habits and Notions — Pets— Unjust Wri- 
ters—Convivial Habits — Love of Travel, and 
Power of Assimilation— The Tender Passions — 
The Effect of Love — Taste in Dress— Love of 
Music— The Irish Jig Page 9. 

CHAPTER II. 

The duty of the Historian— The Greek Maiden 
and her followers. Fifty Maidens and only 
three Men — Ancient Women — Pate of the first 
Colony — Supposed battle field — Relics— The 
Exile of Erin— A repulsive Corpse — Death of 
Parthalon — Nemidh and his followers— The 
Formorins— Pugilists — Ancestors of Dublin — 
Tricks and others — Firbalgo. — Tuatha De Da- 
nann— The Silver Hand— Discontent and War 
— King Breas, the usurper— He insults a Poet 
— The Smiths, Druids, and Doctors — An Irish 
Female Physician — Superhuman labors of the 
Author — Ancient battle song, from our spe- 
cial correspondent Page 14. 

CHAPTER III. 

The Phoenician Controversy— The Irish and 
King Solomon closely related— Plutarch on 
Ireland— Orpheus— Injustice of British Wri- 
ters — The Ancient Irish not Cannibals— Emi- 
gration from Ireland begins and continues — 
Suggestions and Advice — Bridget's Little 
Lamb— The Sons of Milidh— Battle— Death of 
Scota, wife of Milidh— Death of Fas, wife of 
Un — End of the Tuatha De Danann dynasty- 
Curious Stories — Success of the Milesians and 

division of Ireland — Eber and Eremon— War 

Eber killed by Eremon— Death of Eremon — 
The story of Echo Page 18. 

CHAPTER IV. 

Bede's account of Ireland — Reptiles unknown — 
Antidotes — This History a remedy for Snake- 
bites, etc. — Irish modesty — The story of Maen 



and Moriath — The Serenade— King Scoriath — 
Craftine,the Harper — The Lovers impose upon 
the King — Craftine aids them — The King par- 
dons them — Maen sings of the King's Cats — 
Eochaidh, the sighing King — His daughter 
Mab , or Meav, strong-minded-Spensor's Fairie 
Queen — She marries Conor — Divorced — Queen 
of Connacht — Marries again — Disputed Pro- 
perty — Dare, the Cattle-breeder— His Bull— 
The Quarrel— The Bull-fight— Death of "White 
horn " — Death of the other Bull — Unsettled 
condition of the Country— Tuathal and his 
Daughters — Perfidy of the King of Leinster — 
Tuathal's Revenge— His murder — The murder 
of the Murderer — Cormac— Mac Cumhaill or 
Mac Coole — Mac Coole marries Cormac's 
Daughter — Curious Courtship — The Fenians, 
ancient and modern— Grainne and Dairmaid — 
The beds of Dairmaid and Grainne. 

Page 23. 

CHAPTER V. 

St. Patrick's Journey to Ireland — His Miracles — 
Unbelief of Modern times — St. Palladius — His 
Mission aud Martyrdom — Religious zeal of the 
Irish — Their desire to convert all Nations to 
one Faith — Effective Arguments — Religious 
Fervor resulting in War — Battle in an Amer 
ican City — American Version of Irish Revi 
vals — St. Patrick's Birthplace — His Name — 
His Efforts to convert the Irish — Result of his 
Efforts— Ireland Tamed— St. Patrick's Day — 
Gentleness of the Irish — Harmless Processions 
— St. Patrick born A.D. 387 — Goes to Ireland 
a Captive — Sold as a Slave — A Keeper of 
Sheep and Swine — Hardships and Sorrows— 
A Voice by Nights — He leaves his Master and 
Ireland — His Prayers prevent Starvation — 
Again a Prisoner — Term, Sixty Days — Victo- 
rious appears in a Dream — St. Patrick is invi- 
ted to Ireland — He goes to Italy — He Returns 
to Ireland — His Arrival— Books and Precious 
Relics — Visits Antrim — His former Master, 
his Rage, and fearful Death — St. Patrick's 
Canons — Expulsion of Snakes from Ireland. 

Page 28. 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Festival of Beltinne — Fire prohibited — A 
Smoker in Trouble — Boldness of St. Patrick- 
King Laeghaire — Public Discussion — Crom 
Cruach — Destroyed by a Miracle — Coming of 
St. Brendan Foretold— The Chieftain Daire 
gives Land for a Cathedral — His Example tol- 



CONTENTS. 



lowed in America — Public Property gener- 
ously given away — The Donors not Impover- 
ished by such Gifts — St. Patrick Dies — His 
Death Foretold by the Pagan Prophets — The 
Ball of Brains — Vanity of Conor — His Skull 
Fractured — Driven mad by a Prophecy— His 
Strange Death— Superstition condemned by 
the Church — Another Pagan King — St. Brid- 
gid, or Bridget, of Bridgids-town— She takes 
the Veil with Eight Maidens — Lines to Brid- 
get — Her Death — The Grave of the Saint 
— How revealed — St. Patrick's Shrine — His 
Right Hand — An Ancient Burial Place dese- 
crated — The Bones of Relatives hard to re- 
cognize Page 32. 

CHAPTER VII. 

The Irish attracted by Wealth and Power — Lib- 
eral offers of the Americans — An Irish Popu- 
lation secured — The Song of the Alderman — 
Irish Sayings and Salutations — St. John's Eve 
— Cure for the Murrain — Jack-Stones — Origin 
of the Wake — Curious Customs — The Keen— 
A Panama Funeral — The Keen in Africa — The 
Irish and Africans descended from a Common 
Ancestor — The Brehon Law — Compensation 
for Murder — Letters, etc. — Arms and Jewelry 
—The Curse of Tara — Flachtga Fire Tax — 
The First of May celebrated— The First Mill- 
King Brian Dubb — His Stratagem and Victory 
— St. Brendan discovered America in 543 — He 
Visits the Ohio River — Meets an Old Man- 
Speculations on the subject — Names the Coun- 
try after St. Columba — A Song and Parody — 
St. Adamann— The Law against killing Wo- 
men to be enacted in New York Page 36. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Spread of Irish fame— Charlemagne an admirer 
—Ireland invaded by King Egfrid— His 
cruelty— The Inhabitants made Slaves— St. 
Adamnan intercedes for them, with success— 
The Shower of Silver— Of Honey— Of Blood- 
Blood Puddings invented— Single Combat- 
Slaughter of the Leinstermen— St. Samhthann 
— Rumrann, the Poet— More showers— Silver, 
Wheat, and Honey— Destructive Storms- 
Clubs, Societies and Rings — The Irish Ring 
of America— Danish Raids— Turgesius — Irish 
Dissensions— Cruelty of the Danes— Turge- 
sius drowned— The Rock of Cashel— Muir- 
heartach swings around the circle — Sitric, 
Son of Turgesius— He entraps Callaghan— 
Battle and Rescue of Callaghan— Rage of the 
Danes— Not restrained by Religion— Mahoun 
and Brian— Limerick Captured— Spoils— Boys, 
Girls, Gold and Women — Prisoners disposed 
of— Trouble — Material for transformation 
scenes p AGE 42. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Irish Clans — Irish Government — The Science of 
Financiering — The Irish Laborer — His Tran- 
quillity — Ode to the Irish Laborer — The Dark 
Ages— The Light of Irish Learning — Its effect 
on Englishmen — Domestic Wars— Donough — 
The Meloughlins — O'Brian — Roderic O'Con- 
nor — O'Brian Frightened by a Mouse — His 
Sickness — The Hy-Nials and Murtough — Fre- 
quent Murders — Coroners not mentioned — An 
American Inquest — A Blessing to the Citizen 
— Death deprived of its Terrors — Turlough 
O'Conner — Dermod Mac Murrough — Ancient 
Habitations — Diet — Ornaments — Distribution 
of Food — Drinking Cup— Whiskey (Potheen) 
— Butter — Cheese — Music — Dress — Animals 
—The Irish Elephant Page 48. 

CHAPTER X. 

The Antiquity of Ireland — The worthless ness 
of American Inventions without Irish Industry 
— Parthalon and his Ark— The Song of Parth- 
alon — Learning — Busy Americans — No time 
to be domestic or social — No time to eat — The 
Schools of America — Farewell to the Bible — 
The Song of the School-Bell — American Ora- 
tory — The Song of the Eagle — The familiar 
Face disfigured— A Nose bitten off— The Prac- 
tice still followed — Strongbow — Blood and 
Massacre — Marriage of Strongbow to Eva — A 
Fashionable Wedding — A Trip to Dublin — 
Death of Dermod Page 54. 

CHAPTER XL 

Henry II — The Duty of Americans— A Warning 
to Demagogues — " She Stoops to Conquer " — . 
Family Discord — Cookery — Luxury — Death 
of Strongbow — The Church of Kilmainham — 
The old Quarrel — The Irish survive War, Pesti- 
lence, and Famine — They are invited to Amer- 
ica — Hymn of Welcome — John — Literary Diffi- 
culties — Sacred Localities — St. John's Well — 
The good little Boys and the Irish Ghost — The 
Former made Deputy-Sheriffs — The Latter 
Doorkeeper to the Board of Assistant Alder- 
men — Spirit Names on the Pay-Rolls— Fiann 
and the White Fawn— The Spell — It is broken. 

Page 60. 

CHAPTER XII. 

Fate of Geoffrey — The Vestments of Lead — State 
of Ireland in 1210 — O'Donnell More, and Mur- 
ray O'Daly, the Poet — Dyes — Colors— Green a 
popular Color — Song, " When the Mayor wore 
the Green " — Nursery Rhymes — Whittington 
and his Cat — Hey-diddle-diddle — More Nursery 
Rhymes — The Mayor 'sDream— Irish Literature 
in America— Cure for the Ague — The art of 
Stuffing — The Alphabet in Easy Lessons. 

Page 65. 



CONTENTS. 



vn. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Glowing accounts from the Western World — 
More Nursery Rhymes — Little Dickey Connor 
— Emigration seriously checked — An Irish- 
man escapes Citizenship— He does not Vote- 
Clans or Target Companies— Henry III. — Sal- 
aries — De Clare and O'Brien — Treachery of 
De Clare — The name of New England to be 
abolished — New Ireland — New Cork — The 
Banshee— Strange Visions — Satan and his Imps 
— He visits New York — Disturbs the peace — 
The Blarney-stone again — Removed to Blar- 
ney Castle — Removed at great expense to 
New York — De Toleburne and his Horses — 
Fitz Maurice of the Ape — Offices — Edward 
Bruce and the Scotch — The Butler Family — 
Crime, Predictions, and Omens — The Prosper- 
ity of America threatened — Reforms needed — 
Owls— The Man in the White Hat^-The Grave- 
yard Owl— The Jolly Owl— The Song of the 
Owl — The Bats coming— Nursery Rhymes. 

Page 69. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

A new Viceroy — The Statute of Kilkenny — Crys- 
tede and Costeree— The Clarecaune — Curious 
Expressions — The Spectre of the Graveyard — 
The Fatal Promise — The Death Kiss— Thomas, 
Duke of Lancaster — Pay-rolls — The Nominal 
Office Holders—" The Chair Polishers "—They 
form a Target Company — The term " Going 
through Things," illustrated — Civil Service — 
It is successfully opposed — A Senatorial Con- 
cert — " Villikens and his Dinah " — Scene in 
the United States Senate Chamber — A highly- 
moral Exhibition — Trouble with Mr. O'Neil — 
Sir John Stanley — He is rhymed to death by 
the poet, Niall O'Higgin — An honorable Am- 
bition ' Page 70. 



CHAPTER XV. 

The Pains and Pleasures of the Historian — Love 
Scenes — Song of the Chieftain's Daughter — 
Nursery Rhymes— The Earl of March — The 
Plague again — Lord Furnival's trick— Irish 
Chieftians Captured — O'Neill Released— Mac 
Murrough released from the Tower — The 
Tower and Ludlow Jail regulations the same 
— Crime Punished — Man's selfishness — His 
disposition to oppress — The Wail of the Cash 
Boy — Irish forces in reserve — The Sleepers — 
Another Plague— Seven Hundred Priests car- 
ried off— Finola enters a Monastery — The Moth- 
er of Finola— She feeds the Bohemians — His- 
torians, Poets, Reporters eat heartily — Den- 
nis O'Toole recites " Dublin on the Liffey " — 
Michael Gillooly composes and sings a Song — 
Applause— Envy of O'Toole— Fight and Con- 



fusion — Poets in the Station-house — Acquitted 
— Law against Mustachios — The Rose of 
Raby — Jack Cade— Butler — Simnel and Perkin 
Warbeck— Hymn " From Erin in the Ocean." 

Page 79. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

The pressing Want — Gunpowder — Cannon and 
Cannon-Bearers— Song of the Times — Fat Men 
for Soldiers — Poyning's Law — Black Mail — 
Earl Kildare — Pate of his Son — Song of Warn- 
ing—Henry XIII—" The Old Woman of the 
Three Cows " — Intolerance of the King — Piety 
of the Irish — Irish Financiering — The fate of 
Father Robert — Church Property — Church 
Thrift— Edward VI— Mary — Elizabeth — Im- 
possibilities—The Yankee cannot be Irish— 
" We the O'Neill "^lohn Smith— Curious dis- 
covery of an old MS—Old Rhymes. 

Page 85. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Shane O'Neill— He visits England — Gallowglass- 
es — The Parade objected to — New Jersey 
County — Public Opinion— Costumes, English 
and Irish— The Harp that at the City Hall — A 
German Insult resented — O'Neill's Bard— The 
Nice Young Man — Crimes of O'Neill — Killed — 
— Carolan, the Bard — The Spensers — Bones 
and Coroners — "Where are now the Roughs I 
cherished?" — Essex' Treachery — The Song of 
the Bribetaker— Death of Essex— The Peo- 
ple amused while the Rulers are employed. 

Page 90. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Sir Henry Sidney— Kisses the Queen's Hand — 
Barry's Court — Christmas Festivities— New 
Year's Song — The Earl of Clanrickarde— His 
Sons — Grace O'Malley, the Feminine Sea 
Captain — Chivalry— The Song of the Rough — 
Old Manuscript— Songs of Love and War — 
Dreadful fate of a Maiden Fair — She moves to 
Il-lee-noy— Barney O'Toole— Cruelty of Sid- 
ney — Spenser, the Poet^— He marries an Irish 
Girl — Hugh Roe O'Donnell and Mac Sweeney 
— Captured by a Trick — How the first Sweeney 
was caught — Homes for the Sparrows— Song 
of the Sparrows Page 95. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Contentment — Once an Irishman always an 
Irishman— Song, O'Rafferty — The number of 
Offices limited— Worthy Men unprovided for 
— Expedients to prevent suffering — Nominal 
Labor — Song of the Haymakers — Aldermen 
exempt from Constitutional Limitations — Ad- 
vanced Civilization— A self-supporting Relig- 



VIII. 



CONTENTS. 



ion regulated by Law— Department of Re- 
ligion—More Offices— The Bishop of Down— 
His Execution— The Office-Holder— The Can- 
didate victimized— His Visitors and their 
Wants—" A little Fin-cmee "—James— Plots, 
etc.— The Confession of the Demagogue. 

Page 99. 

CHAPTER XX. 

James I. died and left an Office— Not an Amer- 
ican Custom — Charles — The Irish propose 
Terms— Cheated— The Commission System- 
Needy Relatives provided for The " Ring " 

thrive— The Wagon-Mounted Bell— The Sailor 
Boy— He declines a Ship— Aversion to Water 
—The Navy— Irish Song of the Navy— Anoth- 
er Song— I Will Never Go Back— Queer Ex- 
pressions — More Nursery Rhymes — Pathetic 
and Apathetic — Lament Page 104. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Wanted, An American Aristocracy— " We have 
It "—Oh ! if I was an Irishman ; Air, Maggie 
May— Unlimited Power of Local Rulers — Spir- 
ited Natives— Long, Long Ago— Cromwell— 
His Team — Six Flanders Mares — His Money — 
L<> the Poor Eagle — The Flag reformed— Crom- 
well lands in Ireland — Zeal in Religious Mat- 
ters — A Protracted Meeting — A Revival — A 
Pious Letter— Curious Discovery — The Song 
of the Newsboy Page 109. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

English Characteristics — Religion and Real Es- 
tate — Transplanted— Barney Doon— The Poet's 
Grandson — American Industry — Groundless 
Fears — The Ballot-box safe — Charles II. — Ban- 
quets and Celebrations — The Charge of the 
Grub Brigade — Public Opinion — Its Mistakes 
— The Majority restrained — Calamities thus 
avoided — Colonization — Happy Results — Out 

in the Cold— Irish Cattle— Bulls, etc The 

Mayor and his Bull — A Frisky Brute — Sup- 
pressed by Clubs and Bullets — Farmers — 
Townsmen — Voices from the Barn-yard — 
Yankee Poetry disappearing — But one Poem 
left, " That's what's the matter with Hannah.' 
— Nivermore — A Courteous Letter. 

Page 113 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

Irish Poetry superseding that of all other Nations 
— Specimens of German Poetry — Diedrich Pohl 
—The Fate of his Pets— Villiam Dell— He kills 
the Tyrant — Small Salaries— Sudden Death— 
A Pipe and an Empty Bottle— Important Pa- 
pers — Receipts and Expenditures of an Office- 
holder—The Coroner and the Jury — The Ver- 
dict—The Public Funeral— A Solitary Mourner 
— A Papal Brigade — Americans made useful- 
Rich Rewards promised — National Song — 
Barney Doodle— The Grand Review. 

Page 121. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

The Irrepressible Conflict— Which I wish to Re- 
mark— Higgin O'Dowd in the Stocks — He 
pleads for Stationery— Give Me the Pen- 
Three Blind Mice — Custom-houses and Irish 
Collectors— Linen — Whiskey and Balbriggan 
Stockings the only Imports— Employees— Song 
of the Veteran — Pleasant Duties of the Author 
—He turns cheerfully from Gunpowder to Love 
— Love Scenes— Barney and Mag — Air, " The 
Tall Young ■ Oysterman " — Mag saved from 
a Dreadful Fate — She forgives Barney and 
shares his Shanty — A PubUc Meeting disturb- 
ed by a Know-Nothing — The Criminal prompt- 
ly arrested — Tried and Imprisoned — Oh ! why 
not sing those old Songs ? — They give it up — 
The Irish Wall not reliable as a Defence — 
Woman in America — Mrs. Malones — Domestic 
Ditty— The Infant Malones— Twinkle, twinkle, 
Solitaire — Not Byron but O'Byrne. 

Page 127. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Life too short — Great Undertakings not to be 
attempted — Ancient and Modern Greeks — 
Architecture — Painting — Eloquence — Poetry 
— The great O'Byrne again — He tells us of his 
Ancestors — Specimens of his Verses — History 
— Cleopatra — Her Smile — A Warning — Med- 
dlesome Gods — He Moralizes — Wandering 
Thoughts — The Farce, the Tragedy, and the 
Transformation Scene — More Wandering — 
Over the Deep— The Struggle— The Victory- 
Universal Liberty — God's Decree — Friendship 
and Amnesty — Statesmanship and Statues — 
Dum Vivimus Vivamus — Native Composure — 
The Song of the Bullfrog — Drifting — Rocks and 
Ruins Page 134. 



HIBERNIA; 



OR, 



IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



CHAPTER I. 

Sweet Erin an Island— Number of Counties- 
Population— The Potato-rot, Shillalah, and 
Politics— Emigration— The Irish in America 
received as Blessings in disguise — Harbors, 
Lakes, Rivers— Killarney— Kate Kearney — 
Legend of "The Blarney-stone "—The blind 
Harper and " Poor Dog Tray "—The Battle 
of the Boyne— The Bog— Its Effects on the 
Gait, Climate, Soil, etc — Temper of the Na- 
tives displayed at Fairs and Wakes — Domes- 
tic Habits and Notions — Pets— Unjust Wri- 
ters—Convivial Habits — Love of Travel, and 
Power of Assimilation— The Tender Passions — 
The Effect of Love— Taste in Dress— Love of 
Music— The Irish Jig. 

That Ireland is an island, is laid down 
in the geographies, but we are not aware 
that any one has made affidavit to the 
fact, and therefore we give place to the 
assertion, with that qualified endorse- 
ment which should always characterize 
the true historian. 

The island is divided into thirty-two 
counties, and had in 1851 a population 
of six and one-half millions, which was 
a falling-off from the population of 184 1 , 
of one million and a-half ; a decrease 
due, probably, to a disease which de- 
stroyed the potato crop, a reckless use 
of the shillalah, and the fact that poli- 
tics had attracted many of the Irish 
people to the happy regions of the West- 
ern World. It was in this way that the 



United States secured as citizeus the 
cream of the Irish nation. 

With few exceptions, those who have 
left Ireland trace their pedigree to aris- 
tocratic, and even royal families ; as is 
conclusively proved by the fact that 
they are often heard telling the won- 
dering natives of America of the deeds 
of their Irish ancestors, and the castles 
they once inhabited and defended. In 
this subject, as well as iu all others relat- 
ing to the Irish people, the Americans 
take a deep interest ; nor is this at all 
singular, for, on their part, the Irish 
take a deeper interest in all American 
matters. No sooner had a respect- 
able number of that nation landed in 
the United States, than they offered, 
and even insisted upon taking charge of 
the local governments aud revenues of 
the different cities and towns of their 
adopted country ; generously promising, 
at the same time, to relieve the natives 
of all labor and responsibility in national 
affairs as soon as they had learned some- 
thing of the ways of the country. Such 
acts of self-denial, and disinterested kind- 
ness, won the hearts of the Americans, 
who at once reciprocated by putting into 
the hands of the new-comers the reins 
of government, and by imposing upon 
themselves such taxes as became ne- 



10 



HIBERNIA ; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD VER. 



cessary to support the new state of 
affairs. 

The Americans could well afford to 
make these concessions, for few nations 
are so favored as to be able to import 
statesmen, legislators, lawyers, and gen- 
erals ready-made, and willing to submit 
to and endure at once all the toils, dan- 
gers, and anxieties of public life. 

So generous have the Irish people 
been in this respect in New York (an 
American city, next to Boston in char- 
acter and. importance), that hardly a 
native-born citizen is required to tram- 
mel or burden himself with public af- 
fairs, while the rapid introduction of 
Irish measures, sentiment, games, and 
recreations, is a subject which fills the 
American heart with pride and satisfac- 
tion. 

Ireland has harbors, which are noted 
principally as the starting-points for emi- 
grants ; lakes, the beauty of which has 
charmed mankind for centuries ; and 
rivers, second to the lakes only in beauty. 
Near the Lake of Killarney lived one of 
those rare beauties, such as Paris eloped 
with, and Greece went to war about. 
She possessed great power, for according 
to the bards of her time, even the glance 
of her eye was death to an ordinary 
Irishman ; which seems all the more 
strange, as the Irish are calculated to 
endure much hardship without injuring 
their health. 

We know of no way to give the reader 
a better idea of Irish beauty, than by 
quoting a few lines from an ancient 
poem, which runs as follows : 



And has pigs and a sow, 
And an Alderney cow, 
And her chickens are Shanghae and banty 

In the jig she is light as a fairy ; 
She is rich, for she owns a nice dairy ; 

And when angry she '11 pout 

With her lips sticking out, 
For indeed she is very contrary. 

She is up when the daylight is dawning, 
And can sing like a bird in the morning ; 

Ah ! and should you call down 

Her hope-crushing frown, 
Beware ! ' t is a terrible warning ! 



If ever you visit Killarney, 

Be sure that you see Kittie Kearney 
She's as gay as a lark, 
And has eyes that are dark, 

And a wonderful use of the blarney. 

She lives all alone with her aunty, 
In a neat little bit of a shanty, 



But there are other things of interest 
in the vicinity of the lake, and not the 
least mysterious and important is the 
Blarney-stone, which no Irishman, sooner 
or later, fails to kiss, and the effect of 
which upon the fortunes of the Celtic 
race has been marked. In an old man- 
uscript, heretofore overlooked, we find 
an account of this wonderful stone, 
which is here given for the first time to 
the public. 

When Noah entered the ark, he took 
with him not only such things as he 
thought would add to his own comfort 
and that of his family, but made ample 
provision for the beasts of the field and 
the birds of the. air. He took from the 
side of a mountain, and placed on board 
the ark, a singular-looking stone, which 
the birds were expected to sharpen their 
bills on, and which was used for that pur- 
pose. One of Noah's children, who had 
no bill to sharpen, but had an impedi- 
ment in his speech, noticed that the 
voices of the birds, anjd the melody of 
their notes, were much improved by a 
free use of the stone, and taking the 
hint, and being, as we have stated, with- 
out a bill, he applied his tongue to the 
stone, with marvelous results, for the 
impediment in his speech was removed, 
and he became the most fluent and per- 
suasive member of Noah's family. Some 
Irishmen, who had contracted to dig a 



EIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND TEE WORLD OVER. 



11 



drain, to lead off some of the surplus 
waters which remained after the flood, 
and who happened to be present when 
Noah and his family were leaving the 
ark, noticed the Blarney-stone, and were 
informed of its miraculous qualities. 
Prompted by the desire, which Irishmen 
so ot'tea exhibit, to secure every thing 
good for the use of Ireland, they threw 
up their contract, took the stone iu 
the night, removed it to Ireland, and 
planted it on the banks of Lake Kil- 
larney, where it remained for many cen- 
turies. It is about the size of the cele- 
brated Philosopher's Stone, and may be 
easily recognized, as it has upon it the 
private mark of the son of Noah. To 
see a group of Irish around it, in the 
act of applying their tengues, is said by 
travellers to be a most instructive and 
interesting spectacle. 

The Shannon is one of the most noted 
rivers in Ireland. Upon its green banks 
lived that unfortunate blind boy who 
played upon a harp which was not the 
" harp of a thousand strings." The poor 
lad took hold of one end of a string (his 
dog was at the other), and in this man- 
ner left the home of his youth ; but the 
dog perished, for the bard tells us that 

"He got the distemper and suddenly died, 
And Pat played a Lament as he stood by 
his side ! ' ' 

The river Boyne is one of some his- 
torical importance. A battle was com- 
menced on its banks on the first day of 
July, 1 690, which has been in progress 
ever since. A truce occasionally oc- 
curs ; but a yellow or green ribbon, 
imprudently displayed, is quite enough 
to rouse the combatants to great activity 
and renewed slaughter. If any of our 
readers are anxious to learn the strength 
of the existing animosity, let them at- 
tempt to sing 

" Croppies lie down," 



to a company of Ribbon-men, who have 
just indulged iu a drop of the "crathur," 
as they playfully call whiskey, and his 
curiosity will be gratified. No serious 
efforts have been made by our scientists 
to account for this peculiar effect of 
color upon the Celtic cerebral structure ; 
but modern chemists have satisfactorily 
proved that yellow walls have a ten- 
dency to affect the health of workmen 
in a factory, and it is not unlikely that 
both yellow and green may respectively 
exercise au unfavorable influence on the 
natives of different countries. 

The central part of Ireland contains 
1,500,000 acres of bog. Most of the 
Irish travel more or less in this 'part of 
the island, where they acquire a pecu- 
liar gait, which has caused them to be 
called by some persons " Bogtrotters ;" 
a term which is supposed to refer to a 
way they have of raising up and putting 
down their feet when in the act of walk- 
ing. 

The climate of Ireland is mild, its soil 
fertile, and the verdure of its pasture 
rich. Poets and historians have been 
pleased to call it the " Green Isle of the 
Ocean," and claim for it every comfort 
man can desire, and for its people every 
virtue which can dignify or adorn his 
character. We must believe it to be 
the land of statesmen, warriors and 
poets, or reject history heretofore re- 
ceived as authentic. 

The natives are naturally impulsive, 
and quick to resent insults, real or fan- 
cied, which is owing to the fact, that in 
almost every instance, an Irishman is the 
descendant of a king, or the chief of a 
clan, and has the name and fame of his 
family to maintain and defend. Disputes 
aud feuds are common in Ireland, gen- 
erally growing out of some question of 
precedence or ceremony, and they not 
unfrequently culminate at a fair or wake 
in a general engagement. Even at a 



12 



EIBKUNIA; OB, IRELAND THE tt'OBLB OVER. 



wake, the parties have been known to 
become so reckless, as to put out the can- 
dles, damage the coffin, and greatly dis- 
figure the corpse. 

The Irish are domestic in their habits, 
and at home the Irishman is much in- 
clined to dispense with formality ; indeed 
he may be said to show a sort of con- 
tempt for the rules and regulations usu- 
ally enforced by other people in domes- 
tic life. His door is open to the way- 
farer, and even to his pigs and goats, 
and not unfrequently the latter, with 
his cow, find shelter under the same roof 
with his family. 

Nor is it uncommon for an attach- 
ment to spring up between these faithful 
animals 'and his little ones, only equalled 
in strength and romantic beauty by that 
which the Arab's family is said to feel for 
the favorite horse. Owing to these no- 
tions and habits, it is impossible to per- 
ceive in their homes an air of perfect 
neatness ; a circumstance which the pre- 
judiced and fastidious have attempted 
to use in disparagement of the race ; but 
those who look fairly on the subject, will 
see in such conduct a kindness of heart 
and tenderness toward those dependent 
upon them, in striking contrast with the 
conduct of those unfeeling people who 
leave their dumb brutes to shiver and 
suffer in lonely stables and rickety out- 
houses. 

The Irish have inherited the convivial 
habits of their ancestors, and it is 
around the festive board that their na- 
tural prudence and reserve is most likely 
to forsake them. It is their habit to 
drink deep, and when they have done so, 
the company are almost certain to put 
themselves on a war-footing, and assume 
the offensive at once. We do not recall 
a more instructive sight thau the ban- 
queting-room on the morning after an 
Irish feast. Pieces of nose and ear, 
thumb-nails, teeth, and patches of 



scalp, scattered about the floor, serve 
to show how fierce was the carousal, 
and how intemperate the mirth of the 
revelers. 

These social amusements they enjoy 
together ; and should a stranger intrude 
among them, upon such an occasion, he 
is sure to carry away with him when he 
leaves, a lasting impression of their fes- 
tivities and hospitality. 

The Irish are noted travelers, and set- 
tle down, apparently contented, on any 
part of the globe. They hold office with 
impartial liberality under all the govern- 
ments of the earth. They enlist in every 
army. In England, they are Fenians, 
and their business there is to liberate 
Ireland. In America, they are legisla- 
tors, judges, and aldermen, and their 
business there is to correct the imperfec- 
tions of the United States government, 
and make the American people happy. 
In France, they are generals, and lead 
armies — sometimes to victory 1 In all 
parts of the earth they build railroads 
and canals. Wherever they go, they 
engage in every business and practice 
every profession, and so cosmopolitan 
are they, that the earth, in its diurnal 
revolution, presents no portion of its 
surface to the sun where an Irishman's 
face is not ready to be illumined by its 
glorious rays. Within six months from 
the date of their arrival in the United 
States, tens of thousands have been 
known to become completely natural- 
ized, and in a condition to assume all 
the responsibilities and perform all the 
duties of citizenship — except, perhaps, 
the payment of taxes, which should uot 
be insisted upon, so long as they con- 
tinue to vote for us, and furnish us that 
wisdom and integrity, which under a 
wise government always control and 
regulate public affairs. 

It is time to notice some of the gen- 
tler traits which adorn the character of 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



13 



the Irishman. To the passion of love 
he is of all men the most susceptible ; 
and it is in the character of lover that 
he displays all that poetry, pathos, and 
chivalry so peculiarly Irish. It has 
been said that — 

There is no love like that 

Of an Irishman gay ; 
He's as hlithe as the robins 

That warble in May. 

With his sprig of shillalah ! 

He fights when he's angry, 

And drinks when he's sad, 
And beauty, alas ! 

Sets an Irishman mad. 

With his sprig of shillalah ! 

If offended — look out ! 

He is something to dread ; 
If his friend, you are sure 

Of a whack on the head. 

With his sprig of shillalah ! 

But in love, just like butter, 

He'll soften and melt, 
Getting pale in the face, 

And quite small in the belt. 

With his sprig of shillalah ! 

Love has a tendency to develop those 
convivial tastes and inclinations which 
lurk in the breast of every Irishman ; 
so that when he loves hard he drinks 
hard, and it is not uncommon for the 
idol of his heart to wear the marks of a 
battle, which originated in love the 
most devoted, and suffer from wounds 
inflicted by the very man who is ready 
to die for her, so striking is his affection. 

In the matter of dress, the Irishman 
displays great taste. The costume of 
Ireland is a coat of frieze, a green waist- 
coat, corduroys buttoned at the knee, 
" sinkers," or stockings without the feet, 
and shoes the soles of which are filled with 
hob-nails. The shoes, or "brogues," 
as they are called, are often made so 
wide at the top as to require a stuffing 
of hay about the wearer's ankle ; but in 



the district of Mulliugar, the configura- 
tion of the calf is usually such as to 
enable the peasants to dispense with this 
wisp of hay, or soogawn. This peculi- 
arity of limb originated the phrase — 

" Beef to the heels ; 'like the Mullingar 
heifers.'' 

The Irish Americau has yielded so far 
to the prevailing taste in his adopted 
country, as to discard the dress of his 
native land, and adopt that of his Amer- 
ican constituents ; a compliment which 
they fully appreciate. No one under- 
stands better than the Irishman, the 
fact that a man's success in life and 
his station in society, are influenced 
much by his personal appearance ; and 
knowing this, he is elaborate and care- 
ful in preparing himself for the public 
gaze. 

The following song, sung to the mem- 
bers of the Board of Aldermen during a 
recess, by the President of that body, 
will serve to give the reader a fair idea 
of the costume of the Americano-Irish- 
man. The distinguished office-holder, in 
introducing this music, stated that the 
song was original, that he knew it to be 
so, for his grandmother learned it from 
one of the bards of Ireland, and taught 
it to him two years before he was born. 
Then, without further prelude, he launch- 
ed out to the air of " A Wet Sheet and 
a Flowing Sail," the following : 

A velvet coat, a diamond pin, 

A necktie blazing red ; 
A hat of latest style, upon 

My aldermanic head. 
A pair of patent-leather boots, 

And yellow kids, to wear ; 
Then add to these, cigar and cane, 

And won't the gossoons stare ! 

Chorus — A velvet coat, etc. 

In years gone by, I daily toiled, 
With shovel and with spade ; 

But now I hold an office, 

And can smoke and promenade. 



14 



HIBEBNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



I've thrown away my heavy brogues, 

My vest, and corduroys ; 
The Pet of Fashion am I now, 

The wonder of the boys. 

A velvet coat, etc. 

God bless the Yankees, clever souls, 

Who stay in private life, 
Avoiding all the cares of state, 

Anxiety and strife ; 
They let the Irish in the land, 

Kule with an iron rod, 
And thus escape the tiresome spade, 

The shovel, and the hod. 

A velvet coat, etc. 

The song being finished, the aldermen 
resumed business, and, at that very ses- 
sion, the previous question was demand- 
ed, with surprising unanimity, and a 
resolution passed, allowing the vocal 
President the sum of five thousand dol- 
lars for extra services, the nature of 
which was not stated in the minutes of 
the Board. 

The love of music amounts to a pas- 
sion with the Irishman. He is not at- 
tracted, it is true, by the frivolous airs 
of France, nor the zig-zag, hop-skip-and- 
jump music of Germany, nor the round- 
and-round-until-you-are-giddy strains of 
the Spanish. The national air and the 
national dance, is the solid, straightfor- 
ward, business-like, calf-developing jig. 
The Irish jig, including the music and 
the dance, is the joy of the Irish heart. 
Under its gentle influences the young 
men become more gallant and chival- 
rous, and the timid maidens of Erin less 
cruel, while care and sorrow, and even 
the wrongs of Ireland, are for the mo- 
ment overlooked or forgotten. An Irish 
social party without the jig, is a funeral 
in solemnity and silent gloom. It is the 
play of Hamlet with Hamlet left out. 
It is a Quaker-meeting when the spirit 
refuses to move any of the members. 
Stiff, cold, formal, uninteresting, stale, 
and unprofitable. 



CHAPTER II. 

The duty of the Historian— The Greek Maiden 
and her followers. Fifty Maidens and only 
three Men — Ancient Women — Fate of the first 
Colony — Supposed battle field — Relics — The 
Exile of Erin — A repulsive Corpse— Death of 
Parthalon— Nemidh and his followers— The 
Formorins— Pugilists— Ancestors of Dublin — 
Tricks and others — Firbalgo.— Tuatha De Da- 
nann— The Silver Hand— Discontent and War 
— King Breas, the usurper— He insults a Poet 
— The Smiths, Druids, and Doctors— An Irish 
Female Physician — Superhuman labors of the 
Author — Ancient battle song, from our spe- 
cial correspondent. 

It seems eminently proper, that an 
American should compose an account 
of Ireland. As fidelity to the truth is 
imperative in history, no man should at- 
tempt to enact the part of historian for 
his own country. With the single excep- 
tion of the citizens of the United States, 
there is not a people on earth, who are 
not inclined to magnify or exaggerate, 
in a greater or less degree, the merits 
of their native land, and the virtues of 
their countrymen. In undertaking this 
sketch of Ireland, the author of this 
volume, while his judgment is not 
warped or likely to be led astray by 
foolish affection, or unreasonable par- 
tiality for the Irish people, he, on the 
other hand, cannot forget the blessings 
bestowed upon his countrymen by Irish 
legislation, and his desire is to elucidate 
the subject to the extent of his abilities, 
in the hope that abler pens may here- 
after do atapler justice to the interesting 
theme. In short, he feels himself lifted 
above the prejudices and partialities that 
seem to have led all former historians 
astray. 

Having thus, in the most complete 
and satisfactory manner, removed from 
the mind of the reader any doubt or 
suspicion of unfairness on our part, and 
furnished him everything necessary to a 
proper understanding of matters, except 
intelligence, which we take it for granted 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



15 



he possesses already, we proceed with 
our subject. 

In the year of the world, 1599, the 
daughter of a Greek, whose name, 
owing to the neglect of historians, has 
been lost or forgotten, lauded in Ireland. 
She was the leader of a party, composed 
of fifty maidens and three men, which 
fact is alone sufficient to prove that the 
agitation for a restoration of Women's 
Rights, in modern times, is not only iu 
itself proper and reasonable, but also 
has the warraut of historical precedent. 

The chieftain's daughter, as we have 
above remarked, landed in Hibernia 
with her fifty maidens and three men. 
This much is known, but what became 
of her afterwards has not been hereto- 
fore made clear, simply because histor- 
ians have been too indolent to prosecute 
the inquiry. It seems that a dispute 
arose between the maidens concerning 
the proprietorship of the three men, 
which culminated in a battle destructive 
to the fair combatants. In support of 
this fact we find it recorded that on the 
field where the battle raged there have 
been uncovered, at different times, chig- 
nons, hair-pins, artificial teeth, frag- 
ments of hoop-skirts, autique boxes 
marked " Lily White," and " Bloom of 
Youth," and a number of singular-looking 
pads, containing horse-hair, the precise 
use of which is not understood at this day. 

We have other strong evidence to 
sustain the theory that Ireland was set- 
tled by the Greeks, in the fact that 
the physical peculiarities of the Irish 
people, are so decidedly Greciau as to 
forcibly remind one of the form, dimen- 
sions and features of those celebrated 
statues, the Apollo Belvidere and the 
Venus of Milo, which are believed to 
present the purest type of Grecian mas- 
culine and feminine beauty extant. 

The following song, translated from 
the original Celtic, has survived the 



destruction of the Hellenic Colony, and 
throws considerable light on the san- 
guinary fight of the Amazons of the 
Liffey. It has been found in a collec- 
tion of original odes and ballads sung 
by Brian Boroihme, whose harp is 
shown to the curious, in a glass case, in 
the museum of Trinity College, Dublin. 

Air — " Three fishers went sailing,' 7 &c. 

Three jolly fellows sailed over from Greece, 
Over from Greece, to the Emerald Isle. 
And they rowed up the Liffey, one very fine 

morn, 
And they landed, to settle and tarry awhile. 
Fifty women, three nice young men : 
We never shall see such a party again. 

As up the Liffey 

They paddled : 

As up the Liffey 

They paddled. 

As they rowed to the shore, the sun came 

up, 
Up in the East, looking round and red ; 
And the men were Larry, and Terry, and 

Mike. 
And Larry to one of the maidens said : 
" There are fifty of you and of us but three 
And we greatly fear you will disagree." 

And the maidens all 

Looked puzzled ; 

Yes, the maidens all 

Looked puzzled. 

Then a maiden, named Judy, became quite 

sweet 
On Terry ; who shied like a yearling colt. 
But she followed him up, and he backed and 

baulked, 
And acted as though he would surely bolt ; 
For Judy was old, and thin, and tall, 
And she wore such a frizzly ' ' waterfall ! ' ' 

That Terry seemed very 

Much bothered. 

Yes, Terry seemed very 

Much bothered. 

And Larry was cornered by one of the 

crowd, 
Which her name was Kate (she had yellow 

hair), 
But Mag shook her fist at the blooming 

u blonde," 
And said she : ' ' Just meddle with him, if you 

dare.'' 



16 



HIBERN1A ; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD VER. 



Then they both caught hold of the blushing 

lad, 
And they pulled him about ; they were very 
mad. 

And Larry begged hard 
For quarter. 
Yes Larry begged hard 
For quarter. 

Then twenty fair maidens, and all from 

Greece, 
Laid hold of Mike ; and they pulled and 

hauled, 
And tugged and tussled, and chattered and 

fought, 
Till Mike, poor fellow, was terribly mauled — 
To carry him off each maid did mean. 
But Mike was held fast by the other nineteen. 
And they kept up a 
Terrible gabble. 
Yes, they kept up a 
Terrible gabble. 

Then the others joined in, and they fought 

all day, 
Till the shades of night upon them fell ; 
And not one maid of them all was left 
The fate of the three young men to tell ; 
Some hair-pins, teeth, and a water-fall, 
Some paint, and powder, and that was all 

That survived the 

Ancient struggle. 

That survived the 

Ancient struggle. 

The only autheutic record we have 
of the fate of the three men who were 
the innocent cause of this "women's 
battle," is contained in the following 
stanzas, which are supposed to describe 
the adventures of Mike, who is apostro- 
phized by the poet under the figure 
"Erin-Go-Bragh." He appears to have 
been a man of no little consequence, 
and to have accumulated property and 
attained a position of influence in the 
foreign laud to whose hospitable shores 
he fled. 

THE EXILE OF ERIN. 

There came to New York a bold exile from 

Erin, 
With his hat slightly tipped, and shillalah in 

hand, 



And the sight on Broadway to his bosom was 

cheerin', 
For he saw that his countrymen governed the 

land. 
The Court House attracted his eye, and, 

elated, 
He boldly walked up to the Boss, and he 

stated : 
' ' To-day have I landed, two hours have I 

waited ; 
Then give me an office," said Erin-Go-Bragh. 

" Don't talk of delay," said the queer look- 
ing stranger, 

' ' I am needing the money to buy a new coat ; 

Deny, if you dare ; in my frown there is 
danger ; 

Then give what I ask, or you can't have my 
vote." 

And he twirled a nice bit of a stick in the 
air, 

While the Boss cheered his heart with his 
promises fair, 

And he said, " Never fear you shall have your 
full share" — 

And light was the soul of bold Erin-Go- 
Bragh. 

"I am done," said the exile, " with pick-axe 
and digging, 

Farewell to the cart, to the shovel and spade." 

Then he dressed himself up in most fanciful 
rigging, 

And the "Broth of a boy," what a figure he 
made. 

The natives stood back, but they looked on 
admiring, 

To comfort and please him they labored un 
tiring, 

But never to office or station aspiring, 

While they handed their taxes to Erin-Go- 
Bragh. 

Oh ! blest is the race who have Irish to rule 
them ; 

Yes, happy are they who are subject to Pat ; 

And blest are our children while Irishmen 
school them — 

They will learn to submit ; let us thank them 
for that. 

Then yield to them now, and, without hesita- 
tion, 

Bend your necks to the yoke and hand over 
the nations. 

To Erin, sweet Erin we look for salvation ; 

Oh take us and govern us, Erin-Go-Bragh. 



HIBEBNIA; OB, IBELAND THE WOBLD OVEB. 



11 



Parthalon landed, iu Ireland when the 
world was 2520 years old. He brought 
with him his sons and several wives, 
which latter circumstance goes to prove, 
that Mormons existed even in his day, 
although, strangely enough, it is not 
mentioned in Joe Smith's " Book of 
Mormon", or by Brigham Young. He 
had a thousand followers, and landed at 
Inverscenc, now the Kenmare river. A 
governor, leader, or ruler of a people 
should be quiet and amiable, instead of 
going about stirring up wars and plot- 
ting mischief. He should sometimes let 
well enough alone and go off to the sea- 
shore, and there smoke his pipe and 
listen to the music of the waves ; and 
his motto should ever be, " Let us have 
Peace." Such rulers have lived and 
governed, but Parthalon was not one 
of that disposition, but restless and am- 
bitious. The colony he led only existed 
a few hundred years, when it was swept 
away by pestilence. 

Parthalon died in the year 2552, if he 
ever lived, which is the subject of grave 
doubt. Next came Nemidh, whose 
followers were afflicted with a plague, 
and were kept busy burying the dead 
and fighting the Forrnorins, a noted 
race of pugilists who descended from 
Cham, the son of Noah, and from them 
Dublin Tricks, Yankee Sullivan, Crow, 
the fighter, and Mike McCoole, are 
supposed to have descended. 

The next party of carpet-baggers 
came under the lead of Firbalgo, whose 
poetical name has survived nearly every 
thing else relating to him. 

The fifth immigration came under 
Tuatha De Danann. In the year of 
the world 3330 he brought the Firbal- 
gian dynasty to a close by killing 
" Eochaidh," who was buried in a cave 
which the tide had regularly covered for 
ages, but, whether or not on account of 
some repulsive peculiarity in the corpse 



we cannot say, the phenomenon never 
occurred after the funeral. 

We have heard a great deal said 
about the propriety or impropriety of 
admitting women to the practice of 
medicine, and other professions monopo- 
lized in modern times by man, and a 
few energetic and talented persons of 
what we commonly designate as the 
weaker sex, who have dared to aspire 
to Hippocratian honors, have been de- 
nounced as immodest, strong-minded, 
and masculine in their tastes. The lady 
" Ochtriui " was a Doctor of Medicine, 
and assisted the Chief Physician to heal 
the soldiers of Tuatha De Danann, 
greatly to the comfort of the men, and 
the gratification of her king. 

The Tuatha de Danann king "Nu- 
ada " lost his hand in battle, and was 
afterwards known as " Nuada of the 
Silver Hand," for he wore a hand of 
silver, made by the artificer Credue 
Cort, which answered a very good pur- 
pose. The people believed it to have 
been produced by some supernatural 
agency. We believe that Credue Cort 
made it for the king, and shall insist 
upon that view of the matter, though 
we may spoil an interesting Irish story 
by so doing. It is said, but not upon 
the best authority, that a number of 
Nuada's followers, out of compliment 
to their chief, mutilated themselves for 
the sake of wearing similar metallic 
hands. Be that as it may* it is an in- 
disputable fact that very many Irishmen 
of the present day have an itching palm 
for silver, and some get their hands well 
lined with it. 

We now reach the time when the 
leaders became dissatisfied, and angry 
generally, but particularly with each 
other ; and when one Breas, a sort of 
temporary king, or usurper, sent a poet 
to bed in a dark room, without fire, 
giving him only three small cakes for 



II 



HIBERNIA; OB, IBELAND THE WORLD OVEB. 



supper, his friends took up his quarrel, 
and Breas had to resign. From such 
circumstances, we infer that the poet in 
those days was a man of influence and 
popularity, which proves how far supe- 
rior to the moderns the ancients were 
in their taste for belles-lettres. 

Breas prepared for fight, and during 
the struggle which ensued we hear for 
the first time in Irish history of the 
Smith family. They made and mended 
swords and armor. The bards and 
druids praised or blamed the people, 
according to circumstances, or their 
humor — while doctors guessed, as in 
our own days, at the distempers and 
ailments which afflicted mankind, and 
then, precisely like our modern doctors, 
guessed at the remedy, trusting to luck 
for a proper result. 

It was only by the exercise of super- 
human industry that we were enabled 
to cull the above facts from the vast 
stores of legends, traditions, and tales 
of superstition, preserved in the archives 
of the ancient Irish dynasties with re- 
ligious care, and we look for our re- 
ward to the gratitude of an intelligent 
public. 

A gentleman of antiquarian taste 
and profound scholarship has translated 
from the original tougue the stanzas 
which follow, said to have been written 
by the poet whose hard treatment by 
Breas led to the unpleasantness above 
noted, on ttte occasion of an anniversary 
celebration. It has the true patriotic 
ring in it. The "Yankees" alluded to 
were, perhaps, an obscure tribe, which, 
being forced to leave those parts, crossed 
the ocean and became the progenitors 
of our modern Americans. It would 
be, indeed, a remarkable coincidence, if 
in these latter days the descendants of 
the weaker race should be expelled by 
the progeny of the warriors of Breas. 
History would then repeat itself. 



BATTLE HYMN OF THE TRIBE. 

Come, shoulder your green shillalahs, boys, 

And off to the wars with me, 
Said the King ; " The Yankee my peace de- 
stroys, 
And I'll drive him over the sea.'' 
Then they started off, in an Irish jog, 
And they made their way over hill and bog. 
And the soldiers called 
For a lively air, 
And the harpers played them 
Donnybrook Fair. 

They marched along in a merry mood, 

Till they came where the Yankees dwelt ; 
And they pummelled away at the Yanks alJ 
day, 
Until weary and sore they felt. 
And the king looked on, with a joyful grin, 
And he said, to the boys, " Go in ! go in ! " 
And he took a piggin 
Of poteen, raw ; 
And the toast that he drank 
Was "Erin-Go-Bragh." 

All hail ! to the king of the warriors bold, 
Who fight with the black-thorn sticks, 

Let the Yankees hide, or just step one side, 
And make way for the noble ' ' Bricks. ' ' 

They shall draw our water, our wood shall 
hew, 

While we gather their taxes, and spend 

them, too. 

" Bad ce6S '' to the man 
Who would wrong the king. 
We will drink our fill, 
And his praises sing. 



CHAPTER III. 

The Phoenician Controversy — The Irish and 
King Solomon closely related — Plutarch on 
Ireland— Orpheus— Injustice of British Wri- 
ters — The Ancient Irish not Cannibals — Emi- 
gration from Ireland begins and continues — 
Suggestions and Advice — Bridget's Little 
Lamb— The Sons of Milidh— Battle— Death of 
Scota, wife of Milidh — Death of Pas, wife of 
Un— End of the Tuatha De Danann dynasty- 
Curious Stories— Success of the Milesians and 
division of Ireland— Eber and Eremon— War — 
Eber killed by Eremon— Death of Eremon — 
The story of Echo. 

The Phoenicians, who may have set- 
tled Ireland, and may not, were noted for 
the care with which they preserved their 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



19 



annals, and we have pored over volumes 
written when Jeroboam was a boy, only 
to arrive at the result we have stated. 
We are prepared to say that they visited 
Ireland so long ago, that the subject is 
an unimportant one to the reader. They 
have no political influence at this time, 
and Orangemen, and Ribbonmen, and 
even the Fenians, look upon the inquiry 
with indifference. Authors have mixed 
up the people of ancient times, such as 
the Scythians, the Canaanites, and the 
Egyptians, with the Irish, so as greatly 
to perplex one who seeks the simple 
truth without regard to the wishes of 
those who are ambitious enough to desire 
to connect themselves with the aristo- 
cratic families of the past. 

That the early settlers of Ireland were 
related to King Solomon, cannot be 
positively denied, though it is claimed 
that the connection, if any existed, was 
only one by marriage, which seems 
likely, for Solomon's wives' relations are 
known to have been numerous. It ap- 
pears by no means improbable that some 
of the ships of that famous ruler, when 
out seeking materials for the temple, 
touched at Ireland, and how natural 
would it have been for those in charge, 
knowing the lonely condition of the king, 
and his desire to enter upon the mar- 
riage state, to secure for him from among 
the beautiful damsels of Hibernia, a 
score or two of wives ; and who knows 
but what the wisdom with which they 
rule mankind in all parts of the world, 
was inherited from that illustrious ruler. 

As we have intimated, the early wri- 
ters on the subject of Irish history do 
not agree. Whether Calypso meant 
Ireland in the writings of Plutarch we 
cannot say. It was described as an 
island five days' sail from Britain, which 
puzzles us greatly, unless we assume that 
they had no steam vessels in those days, 
which, in view of the advanced state 



of civilization, we are not prepared to 
do. Even in those days they abounded 
in poets and warriors, were ingenious 
and thrifty enough to invent the present 
mode of making whiskey, and what right 
have we to assume that they had no 
steamboats ? The question is with the 
reader. And so are the following lines, 
which may help to elucidate the matter 
and go far to prove the loyalty of the 
Irishman and his love of country : 

My country, t'is of thee, 
Land of O'Rafferty, 

Of thee I sing. 
There the sun brightly shines 
Gilding potato vines, 
Nobody mopes or pines 

If in the ' ' ring. ' ' 

Shanties are plenty there — 
Built to let in the air, 
. Chickens, and cow. 
Donkeys that sweetly bray, 
Little to do by day, 
Drinking the night away, 
Many a row. 

Hearts full of joy, and light, 
Ready for dance or fight, 

Spurning all care. 
Many a head to break, 
Many a jolly wake, 
But not a single snake 

Ever comes there. 

Soon to New York we go, 
Irish ft, is, you know — 

Irishmen rule. 
Yankees for us shall toil, 
For us shall till the soil, 
Shall our potatoes boil — 

Pat is no fool. 

Orpheus names Ireland in the .m- 
aginary route, which he lays down for 
Jason and the Argonauts — not Orpheus 
of lute notoriety, we infer. But if it is 
the same who distinguished himself as 
a musician, did he write before or after 
his noted journey to the regions of 
Pluto? In order to know just what 
weight to attach to the statements of a 
historian, the reader should know some- 



20 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



thiug of his circumstances and especially 
the state of his mind. Now Orpheus 
(if it was the musician), was much dis- 
tressed about Eurydice before he jour- 
neyed in search of her, and when he 
came back was too much overcome by 
his failure to write history. We speak 
of those things as we understand them 
from actual experience. If it was Or- 
pheus the musician, we reject his state- 
ments, for he was in love, and a man 
in love is not reliable. 

It was found that Ireland was more 
ancient than Albion or Britain. The 
natives of the latter island became en- 
vious, they invaded Ireland, destroyed 
the records of her ancient splendor and 
greatness, and now the people of an 
island, which was only known in ancient 
times as a tin-shop and coal-yard, for 
the Irish claim precedence and affect to 
ridicule the descendants of kings and 
princes and the cousins of King Solo- 
mou. In this controversy originated 
the "unpleasantness" which long existed 
between the natives of the two islands. 
The important question of antiquity has 
not yet been disposed of. The success- 
ful .party, upon a settlement of the mat- 
ter, could at once proceed to develop 
their resources, and secure to themselves 
unlimited prosperity. Notwithstanding 
all this, the controversy stil# proceeds. 
The Britons claim, that the sacred isle 
" the Ogygia " of the Greeks is in its in- 
fancy compared with their island, while 
the Irish laugh at the pretensions of 
their neighbors, and prove to their own 
satisfaction, at least, that Albion was 
unknown when " Erinn " was a great 
and flourishing kingdom. 

The feeling growing out of the quarrels 
between the Irish aud the Britons has 
prevented writers of the latter nation 
from being at all times just to the for- 
mer. This appears in their references to 
the social condition of the Irish ; in 



some instances they have held up the 
most quiet, amiable, and unobtrusive, 
people on the globe, except perhaps 
the Chinese, as rude, barbarous aud 
uncouth. 

They have even accused them of 
cannibalism. We have examined this 
charge carefully and acquit them of any 
such practice. From the time of the 
Greek maidens down to the present, the 
Irish have been addicted to the habit 
of pounding each other with a club 
called a " Shillalah," and have been 
guilty, when roused to anger, of carving 
each other in a most painful manner ; 
but no matter how tender a fellow-man 
may have become from pounding, or 
how skillfully he may have been carved, 
we have not found a single instance 
where a human being has been actually 
devoured. The simple biting off of an 
ear or a lip, or the mastication of a nose, 
are one thing, and the act of cooking 
aud eating a man another. 

The last colonization took place when 
the world was 3500 years old. Soon 
after that time the stream of emigration 
commenced to flow from, instead of to- 
wards Ireland, a change in the tide, 
which has affected the most remote 
countries of the earth ; every nation 
has felt its influence, and the flow has 
been so powerful in the direction of some 
countries, as to crowd out the natives, 
and make it necessary for them to seeii. 
homes elsewhere. But what of that ? 
The world belongs to the noble, the 
energetic and the brave. Indolence, 
imbecility, and mental inferiority must 
yield to tact, enterprise and statesman- 
ship. This is an inflexible law. Those 
short-sighted people in America who 
complain of the effect of Irish influence, 
and are impatient under Irish rule, 
should remember that they are strug- 
gling against laws fixed aud immutable, 
and that wisdom dictates a quiet and 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



21 



complete submission to the rule and the 
wishes of the dominant race. We are 
taught by the following touching inci- 
dent, that society was organized in an- 
cient tunes much as it is now, and that 
after all there is nothing new under the 
sun. 

Bridget had a little lamb, 
Its fleece was very black, 
t And grew around its little ears 
And curled upon its back. 

Its eyes were bright as little stars, 

Its wool was soft as silk, 
It used to follow Bridget 'round, 

When she went out to milk. 

When Bridget milked, she sat upon 

A pretty little chair — 
No matter what the weather was, 

The lamb was always there. 

One night the air was very hot. 

And cruel were the flies, 
And Bridget's cow did kick, and hit 

The lamb between the eyes. 

Old "Brindle" was a wicked brute, 

And slowly chewed her cud, 
Nor seemed to care, though Bridget's lamb 

Lay kicking in the mud. 

Then Bridget ran and quickly brought 

A piggin of poteen, 
And vainly tried to make it drink — 

That lamb was "very green." 

She took the old black bottle down — 

It stood upon a shelf — 
And filled the piggin to the brim, 

Then drank it off herself. 

And then she stood the lambkin up ; 

'Twas dead, nor could it walk. 
And so, she packed her clothes that night 

And started for New York. 

The fleet of the sons of Milidh reached 
Ireland in the year above stated, and 
they proceeded at once to dispossess the 
Tuatha de Dananns. They must have 
landed prepared for fight, for a decisive 
battle was fought three days after, in 
which fell Scota, wife of Milidh. Her 



grave may be seen between Sliabb and 
the sea. How she happened to get 
within range, and thus receive her death 
wound, does not appear. We conclude 
that women enjoyed in those days the 
rights they demand now, and were, con- 
sequently, subjected to risks and dangers 
which the women of modern times es- 
cape. 

The women must have suffered severe- 
ly in the battle, for we are told that 
Fas, the wife of Un, fell there ; a mel- 
ancholy circumstance, which, however, 
confirms the view we have taken of the 
rights enjoyed by the women of Ireland 
in ancient times. 

The Tuatha de Dananu dynasty passed 
away. The names of the three last of 
the line were Ether, Cethur, and Fethur. 
The first was called Mac Cuill, because 
he worshipped the hazel tree. The sec- 
ond, Mac Ceacht, because he worshipped 
the plough ; and the third, Mac Griene, 
because he worshipped the sun. From 
this, we infer that there was a difference 
of opinion on religious subjects, and that 
the greatest liberty in matters of con- 
science prevailed. 

Curious stories are told of the Tuatha 
de Dananns, such as that they lived long 
after their extinction by the Milesians, 
as spirits and fairies, flitting about the 
country. That they brought the famous 
stone " Lia fail," or stone of " Destiny," 
to Ireland, which is claimed by some to 
be the same now known as the pillar- 
stone over the Croppies grave in one of 
the raths of Tara ; and, further, that 
a De Danann invented the occult form 
of writing, called the ogham creave, 
concerning which the antiquarians have 
disputed so much — these traditions are 
left to such a disposition as the reader 
may choose to make of them. 

Fair play was insisted upon in the 
days of the Milidh. A curious story is 
told of their first landing in Ireland. 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



They went ashore at Slaney, in the 
county of Wexford, and took the Tuatha 
de Dauanns by surprise, who proposed 
that the Milesians should re-embark and 
go nine waves from the shore, agreeing 
to surrender to them if they could force 
a landing. 

The Milesians assented, but when the 
original inhabitants found that they 
were fairly out at sea, they proceeded 
by magical incantations to raise a tem- 
pest, which scattered the fleet of their 
enemies. Fortunately, the Milesians had 
Druids also, and they at once set about 
counteracting the spells put upon them 
by the De Dauann. They found, on 
sending a man aloft, that the wind only 
blew near the water, and did not reach 
as high as the topmast ; so the Druids 
commenced with counter arts and incan- 
tations, and soon brought about a favor- 
able change of weather, but not till five 
of the eight brothers had perished in 
the waves, four of whom were drowned 
off Kerry. The survivors landed and 
fought the battle we have mentioned, 
and having conquered, divided the coun- 
try between Eber, Finn and Eremon, 
but neither was satisfied. They fought 
each other. Eber was killed, and Eremon 
assumed sole control of the island, ruling 
alone. He reigned fifteen years and 
died, we presume greatly beloved by his 
people, though this latter statement is 
only based upon the custom so common 
with all nations of loving their rulers 
enthusiastically after they are dead. 

His sorrowing subjects commenced a 
monument, and the work went forward 
with great rapidity for several months, 
but they became in time able to dry 
their tears, and about the same time 
work on the monument ceased, so that 
it stands in an unfinished state to this 
day. 

Spiritualism seems to have prevailed 
at the time of which we write. Stories 



of witches and fairies were common, and 
the following account of Echo, preserved 
since the days of the De Dananns, cor- 
roborates the view of those who ascribe 
to the Irish nation a Greek origin : 

Beautiful nymph of the woods and hills, 

Lingering oft by the glassy rills, 

Hiding herself in the mountain caves 

Down on the shore by the breaking waves — 

Or lost in the spray of the waterfall, 

Vainly I seek her and vainly call. • 

" Oh, why do you fly me 1 " I sadly cry, 

' ' Oh, why do you fly me ! ' ' the quick reply 

Comes trembling back on the balmy air, 

But I never shall see her form so fair. 

The king of the gods, majestic, dread, 

Dallied awhile with the nymphs, 'tis said, 

When Juno sought him with kindling ire, 

While in her breast, like a flame of fire. 

Jealousy burned. Through a shady grove 

She strayed in search of the truant Jove. 

Echo saw her — her angry eye 

Like lightning flashing from earth to. sky, 

While her curling lip and her scornful tread 

Told of wrath for even a god to dread. 

" Stay," said the nymph, in no patient mood. 

The angry goddess listening stood, 

And Echo prattled ; the queen stood by, 

"Till Jove had left for his home on high. 

Alas, for poor Echo, a cruel fate 

Is hers, for the avengeful Juno's hate 

Dooms her to misery day and night, 

She lives in the air a formless spright. 

Sorrowful victim of Juno's wrath. 

Haunting the travelers lonely path, 

Hither and hither and far and near, 

Her answering words are the last we hear. 

There are those who claim that the 
Greeks are not entitled to the credit 
usually given them for their proficiency 
in the arts and sciences, and assert that 
all their knowledge of poetry, painting, 
and architecture, was borrowed from 
Ireland, and that they forgot to re- 
turn the borrowed articles. It is also 
claimed in New York that the missing- 
public property and large sums of mouey 
from the treasury have been borrowed, 
and will be returned when the arts and 
sciences are sent back by the Greeks to 
the Irish. 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



23 



CHAPTER IY. 

Bede's account of Ireland — Reptiles unknown — 
Antidotes — This History a remedy for Snake- 
bites, &c. — Irish modesty — The story of Maen 
and Moriath — The Serenade — King Scoriath — 
Craftine,the Harper — The Lovers impose upon 
the King — Craftine aids them — The King par- 
dons them — Maen sings of the King's Cats — 
Eochaidh, the sighing King — His daughter 
Mab, or Meav, strong-minded-Spensor's Fairie 
Queen — She marries Conor — Divorced — Queen 
of Connacht — Marries again — Disputed Pro- 
perty — Dare, the Cattle-breeder— His Bull— 

' The Quarrel— The Bull-flght-Death of "White 
horn " — Death of the other Bull — Unsettled 
condition of the Country — Tuathal and his 
Daughters — Perfidy of the King of Leinster — 
Tuathal's Revenge— His murder — The murder 
of the Murderer — Cormac — Mac Cumhaill or 
Mac Coole — Mac Coole marries Cormac's 
Daughter — Curious Courtship — The Fenians, 
ancient and modern — Grainne and Dairmaid— 
The beds of Dairmaid and Grainne. 

The historian Bede has left a descrip- 
tion of Ireland, interesting, though not 
admitted to be entirely reliable. He 
was an Englishman, who gained some 
reputation as a writer, and we feel in- 
clined to examine his statements, though 
we may conclude to reject many of them. 
He says : " Ireland, in breadth and for 
serenity of climate, far surpasses Britain. 
Snow scarcely ever lies there over three 
days.''" How important it is to make 
hay while the sun shiips we all under- 
stand ; but we are told by the historian, 
that the Irish people neglected this 
duty. " No man makes hay in summer, 
for winter's provision, or builds stables 
for beasts of burden." So says Bede. 

Bede goes on to say, that no reptiles 
were found in Ireland, and that though 
some were taken there on ships from 
Britain, they died as soon as exposed to 
the air. He claims that almost every- 
thing found in Ireland is an antidote for 
poison, and tells of persons who had 
been bitten by serpents and were cured 
by the scrapings from the leaves of some 
Irish books, which were put in water 
and given them to drink. There can be 



no doubt of the truth of this statement, 
and we feel confident that the time will 
come when this book will be accepted 
as a certain cure for snake-bites, hydro- 
phobia, and delirium tremens. Old 
books are very scarce in Ireland, having: 
been used medicinally until there are few 
left. 

The modesty of the Irish people is 
conspicuous in the fact, that they do not 
claim descent Jrom the sun nor moon, 
nor have they any preposterous stories 
about ancestral gods and goddesses, but 
are content to tell the simple truth, free 
from vain boasting and ostentation. 

Love affairs have been recorded with 
some care in Ireland, but like an account 
of love affairs now, we find the truth 
mixed with a great deal of fiction. We 
have selected one story, however, which 
the reader may rely upon. Maen was 
deaf and dumb, and of course had no way 
of communicating with others but by a 
dexterous use of his fingers or by writing 
on a slate ; but he became involved in 
a quarrel with another youth, and sud- 
denly recovered his speech. He was a 
good-looking young man, of noble bear- 
ing, extremely polite, and popular with 
all but his uncle, who expelled him from 
the kingdom, when he took refuge with 
King Scoriath, who had a daughter very 
beautiful, as the daughters of kings al- 
ways are. Maen fell in love with her. 
It would have been pusillanimous for him 
to have failed to do so ; for, according to 
the sentiment of his time, it was the 
duty of a knight to fall in love with 
every lady he met, if beautiful — and all 
ladies were in those days. 

Moriath, for that was the lady's name, 
being the king's daughter, never had 
lived out, though she could have ob- 
tained a good character and understood 
general house-work, but she had passed 
her time flirting with young men, many 
of whom moped about her father's court, 



24 



EIBEBNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



siugiug and sighing in a most doleful 
manner. 

Her father had resolved that she should 
not marry, but Maen had decided other- 
wise. He felt much encouraged by what 
he regarded as tender looks given him 
by the lady, and resolved to propose at 
the earliest moment ; but the old king 
was watchful, and the princess was timid, 
and Maen was impatient and perplexed. 
At last he consulted Oaftine, an old 
harper, who passed much of his time 
playing dominoes with the king, and who 
understood his whims and habits. He 
advised Maen to go to the rear of the pal- 
ace at midnight (for the princess slept in 
a back room), and, under the pretense of 
serenading the young lady, to indicate his 
affection for her, and his desire to tell 
her his love. Maen acted at once upon 
the hint, and late at night took a position 
on the roof of a shed which sheared 
the royal swine. He attracted her at- 
tention by singing the words : 

I have something sweet to tell you, 

But I cannot tell it yet — 
So meet me by the hawthorne, love, 

Be sure and not forget. 
When the dew is on the blossom 

And the cuckoo on the bough — 
For I' ve something sweet to tell you, 

But I cannot tell it now. 

The swine became restless ; but in spite 
of the interruptions, Maen continued : 

You must wait 'till I can see you 

All alone ; but do not grieve, 
For my heart's o'erflowed with joy 

At what you told me yester-eve. 
And altho' you did not answer 

To my whispered prayer and vow, 
I have something sweet to tell you, 

But I cannot tell it now. 

In spite of the swine, Maen went on to 
sing : 

I have something sweet to tell you 

And my soul is full of bliss, 
For last night you said you loved me, 

And you sealed it with a kiss. 



And I fain would wait 'till evening, 

But ah ! I don't know how, 
I have something sweet to tell you, 

And my heart says tell it now. 

Moriath heard and recognized the 
voice, and quietly opened the window ; 
but she was much frightened, and, while 
she intended to accept the love of Maen, 
was disposed to wait for a more favor- 
able opportunity, and as she could not 
converse with the young man without 
danger of detection, she adopted Maen's 
plan, and expressed her thoughts and 
wishes in the following words : 

Wait 'till the winter is over, 

Spring will bring blossoms and flowers, 
Bees seeking sweets in the clover, 

Birds making love in the bowers. 
Nights, when the soft summer breezes 

Come whispering over the sea, — 
Ah ! then will I linger at eveni ng, 

And wander by moonlight with thee. 

Maen was in raptures. True, he did 
not relish the idea of delay, but it was 
something to have the affair reduced to 
a mere question of time. The swine, 
with no taste for music or the beautiful, 
continued restless and seemed for a time 
inclined to break up the serenade, but 
at last becoming quiet, Moriath con- 
tinued to sing : % 

Wait 'till the roses are blooming 

And blush in the rich ruddy light, 
The breath of the morning perfuming, 

Adorned by the dew-drops of night. 
Like the rose I may blush as I greet thee, 

But down on the shell-covered shore, 
I will fly, love, at twilight to meet thee, 

To leave thee again never more. 

Just then the king appeared at another 
window — and when kings are mentioned 
they should be particularly described : 
He wore a night-shirt made of that noted 
American fabric known as " JFruit of the 
Loom," and his night-cap was knit and 
of Berlin wool. His balbriggan stock- 
ings were secured below the knee by a 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



25 



pair of richly-embroidered garters of 
American manufacture. Iu one hand 
he held a common clay pipe, the stem 
broken short and the bowl much black- 
ened by use, and in the other a piece 
of black-looking tobacco, genuine " Navy 
plug." He had been restless for hours, 
and had risen to take a comfortable 
smoke, under the impression that it would 
quiet his nerves. 

The appearance of the king put a 
stop to the singing. Moriath closed her 
window carefully, and Maen, slipping 
down from the shed, satisfied with the 
result of the night's adventure, sought his 
bed ; but the final result is what the 
reader is by this time impatient to hear. 
On another occasion the lovers em- 
ployed Craftine to entertain the king, 
and he handled his harp with so much 
skill that the king and his attendants 
forgot the lovers, a circumstance which 
Maen took advantage of, and proposed 
to Moriath. Soon after the state of 
affairs was made known to her father, 
the king relented, received and blessed 
the disobedient children, and thus origin- 
ated the custom, which parents observe, 
even in our day, of yielding to the wishes 
of the young people in matters of matri- 
mony when they find that there is no 
other course left. With no direct infor- 
mation on the subject, we state that 
Craftine, the harper, was present at the 
nuptial feast, and was well treated by 
the young couple, who felt grateful for 
the aid he had given them in their efforts 
to impose upon the old king. The coun- 
try became unsettled soon after, and 
Maen was compelled to fly, when he en- 
trusted his wife to the harper, who took 
good care of her until Maen returned to 
take possession of the kingdom some 
time after. He reigned over the men of 
'Erinn " eighteen years. The word craft, 
or crafty, originated at this time, and is 
supposed to refer to the cunning harper. 



Maen in after years often told of the 
serenade, and was fond of singing the 
following song in honor of the part taken 
in the affair by the king's cats : 

When stars are beaming brightly, 
Then over the house-tops nightly, 
Or tripping the fences lightly. 

I seek my Tabby fair. 
And she knows my cat-a-wauling, 
And will answer to my calling, 
In a voice like music falling 

On the dewey midnight air. 

With her mew, mew, mew, 

Say, where are you ? 

Up on the fence, love, 

Mew, mew, mew. 

We stroll through garden bowers, 
And we pass the cool night hours, 
'Mongst creeping vines and flowers, 

My purring mate and me. 
And I sing a Tom-cat's ditty, 
And I say " My darling Kitty, 
You're the pride of all the city, 
But what is that I see ? ' ' 

With a mew, mew, mew, 
He claims her too, 
My own fair Tabby, 
Mew, mew, mew. 

Down on my rival springing, 
And fiercely to him clinging, 
While cries of rage are ringing. 

That echo far and wide. 
His jealous wrath defying, 
I set the fur to flying 
With my love, the struggle eyeing, 

But she does not seem to chido. 
With her mew, mew, mew. 
Your love is true, 
I'm yours forever, 
Mew, mew, mew. 

In spite of oaths appalling, 
And coal and boot-jacks falling, 
I hear my Tabby calling, 

In sad, and plaintive voice. 
A monster thought to pelt her, 
She wildly flew for shelter, 
I followed — '• Helter, skelter," 
Together we rejoice, 

With a mew, mew, mew, 
Sweet Tab for you, 
I'll dare all danger, 
Mew, mew, mew. 



26 



EIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND TEE WORLD OVER. 



Eochaidh Feidhlech, another prince, i 
was famous for sighing. It is a histori- 
cal fact that he could outsigh any man 
in Ireland. Mab was his daughter. She 
was a strong-minded woman, whose con- 
duct created a sensation in her time, 
and though belligerent in her inclina- 
tions, she was transformed by the poet 
Spensor, into the " Fairie Queen." She 
was married to Conor, the King of 
Ulster, but the marriage was dissolved on 
the ground of " incompatibility of tem- 
per," which has continued to be a popu- 
lar cause for divorce down to the present 
day. Mab, or Meav, as she was some- 
times called, became Queen of Connacht, 
and married another chief, who died 
before a divorce become necessary. 
Then she selected a young man, made 
him her husband, and they lived 
pleasantly as king and queen for many 
years. But trouble came, a dispute 
arose about their property, and an in- 
ventory was taken. Her husband had, 
upon a fair estimate, a fine young bull 
the advantage. Meav wanted a match 
for it, and sent out a courier to secure 
one, who arranged with Dare, a promi- 
nent cattle breeder ; but some of the 
company got drunk, and made remarks 
about the bull, which offended Dare. 
Then occurred one of those combats so 
common in Ireland, ending in broken 
skulls, bloody noses, black eyes and 
bodies bruised and battered. Nor did 
it end here ; the bulls fought, " White 
horn" was killed, and the other bull, 
enraged and intent upon something des- 
perate, dashed out his own brains. 
Meav lived to be one hundred years old, 
and died, according to one author, in the 
A. D. 10. About this time, the Irish 
were not the quiet, amiable people they 
are now. Insurrections occurred from 
time to time — that of the Attacotti was 
most bloody. At a feast, when the 
guests were elated by drink, and after 



they had been lulled into repose by the 
music of the harp, the conspirators per- 
petrated a cruel massacre. All but 
three ladies were killed, and they fled to 
Britain. Soon after each gave birth to 
a son. The usurpers tried government 
for some years, but failed. Disaster fol- 
lowed disaster, till Morann, the son of 
Cairbre, declined to take possession of the 
throne, arguing that it would not pay. 
The rightful heir was recalled, and then 
the corn grew, fish were plenty in the 
rivers, the cows gave new milk, and 
Irishmen were well fed and happy. 

Tuathal was a king, and had two 
beautiful daughters. The King of Lein- 
ster married the youngest first, but 
afterwards by stratagem got possession 
of the eldest, and married her. The 
first wife was living, but was kept out 
of sight by her husband ; the fraud was 
discovered, the last wife died first, then 
the first wife died, and then the father 
invaded Leinster, burned and ravaged 
the country, and compelled the people 
to pay tribute. These family quarrels 
were almost as common in ancient times 
as at present, and nearly, if not quite as 
destructive. 

Tuathal reigned thirty years and 
fought one hundred and thirty-three 
battles, but Nial killed Tuathal, and 
Tuathal's sou killed Nial — in short, Ire- 
land had for some time been an un- 
healthy country for kings, and seemed 
likely to continue so. 

In time Cormac ascended the throne. 
He is described as a king, whose hair 
curled slightly, who danced well and who 
was fond of literary pursuits. At 39 
he lost his sight, having had a spear 
thrust into his eyes ; on that account 
he vacated the throne, and was at last 
choked to death with a salmon bone, an 
accident which the druids were said to 
have brought about. Cormac had a 
famous son-in-law, Mac Cumhaill, which 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



27 



means Mac Coole. He was a poet and 
a warrior. All poets in those days were 
warriors, but it does not appear that all 
warriors were poets. 

There is a story of the courtship of 
Mac Coole with Cormac's daughter. She 
was a very wise woman, possessing abil- 
ity, skill and knowledge, but was neither 
ridiculed nor condemned by the men of 
her time on that account. In this we see 
what an advance society has made since 
the days of Cormac. The courtship was 
carried on in the form of conversations, 
during which, subjects of weight and 
importance were discussed. No other 
courtship was ever conducted in this 
manner ; for some reason the plan did 
not become popular, and by a vote almost 
unanimous, all subjects savoring of learn- 
ing, ability, or good sense, have been 
prohibited during courtship, and a species 
of conversation substituted, known as 
"small talk,'' which is found to be no 
tax on the mental powers, while the most 
limited intellects can comprehend and 
take part in it — hence its popularity. 

They had Fenians in the days of Finn 
Mac Cumhaili, or Mac Coole, and Fiun 
himself, w;th his sons, are thought to 
be the authors of the Fenian poems. 
These Fenians were, as near as we can 
ascertain, warlike poets, who fought and 
wrote. It was their habit to march from 
one part of Ireland to invade another. 
The plans and tactics of the modern 
Fenians were not known to Mac Coole. 
The brilliant strategy adopted in our 
day, looking to a conquest of Ireland, 
by invading a country 3000 miles dis- 
tant, is of modern origin. The idea of 
applying the principle of counter-irrita- 
tion to war seems never to have occurred 
to the ancients It is but lately that 
the world has been taught that the most 
effective way to conquer one nation is, 
to invade, stir up, and irritate another. 



Some of the Fenian poems may be found 
in the Book of Leinster, with accounts 
of their ancient exploits and battles ; 
accounts of their modern exploits may- 
be found in the files of English and 
American papers, particularly those of 
Canada. Mac Cumhaili, or Mac Coole, 
was a "Head Centre." 

Grainne, a healthy young Irish girl, 
refused to marry Finn in his old age, but 
eloped with Diarmaid, while Finn and his 
friends were sleeping off the effects of 
a drug, which the youug lady had jest- 
ingly put in their drink. They woke up 
in due time aud followed the elopers all 
over Ireland, and the people still show 
their resting places, which they call the 
beds of Diarmaid and Grainne. 

Diarmaid was present with the drink- 
ers, but would not partake, knowing that 
the wine was drugged. His refusal is 
commemorated in the following lines, 
written by himself while a wanderer with 
Grainne : 

Oh, urge me not this evening, friends, 

Nor fill the cup for me — 
I'm sad even while I listen to 

Your songs of joy and glee. 
Then take the rosy wine away, 
■ Remove it from my sight, 
It sends a tremor through my heart — 

I cannot drink to-night. 

You tell me it will soothe my cares, 

But still I droop and pine, 
I cannot join the festive throng, 

Nor quaff the flashing wine. 
For though it wears a rosy hue, 

And sparkles in my sight, 
It holds no lurking joy for me — 

I cannot drink to-night. 

But pass the brimming goblet round, 

Nor you its charms decline. 
Nor let the cares that cloud my soul, 

Throw shadows over thine. 
Drink deep and give the fleeting hours 

To pleasure and delight, 
But offer not the cup to me — 

I cannot drink to-night. 



BIBERN1A; OB, IRELAND THE WOULD OVER. 



CHAPTER Y. 

St. Patrick's Journey to Ireland — His Miracles — 
Unbelief of Modern times— St. Palladius— His 
Mission and Martyrdom— Religious zeal of the 
Irish — Their desire to convert all Nations to 
one Faith— Effective Arguments— Religious 
Fervor resulting in War — Battle in an Amer- 
ican City — American Version of Irish Revi- 
vals — St. Patrick's Birthplace — His Name — 
His Efforts to convert the Irish— Result of his 
Efforts— Ireland Tamed— St. Patrick's Day- 
Gentleness of the Irish — Harmless Processions 
—St. Patrick born A.D. 387— Goes to Ireland 
a Captive — Sold as a Slave— A Keeper of 
Sheep and Swine — Hardships and Sorrows— 
A Voice by Night — He leaves his Master and 
Ireland— His Prayers prevent Starvation — 
Again a Prisoner — Term, Sixty Days — Victo- 
rious appears in a Dream — St. Patrick is invi- 
ted to Ireland — He goes to Italy — He Returns 
to Ireland— His Arrival — Books and Precious 
Relics — Visits Antrim — His former Master, 
his Rage, and fearful Death — St. Patrick's 
Canons — Expulsion of Snakes from Ireland. 

To ascertain in what manner St. Pat- 
rick journeyed to Ireland, the land of his 
adoption, has been a matter of earnest 
inquiry and investigation for many cen- 
turies. Just what there is in this inquiry 
to make it important, we are unable to 
discover. That he lived, that he ex- 
pelled the snakes from Ireland, and per- 
formed other great and wonderful mira- 
cles, is believed by some and doubted by 
others ; for the most absurd propositions 
will be believed, while such as are the 
I most reasonable and best authenticated, 
are doubted and discarded as fiction. 
Even while we write, we do not feel cer- 
tain that this volume will escape the 
sneers of the ignorant and the prejudiced, 
or the criticisms of the vain and the fas- 
tidious. We believe in the story of St. 
Patrick, and proceed to lay it before our 
readers, warning them at the same time 
to beware of that unbelief and skepticism 
which prompts so many to reject and 
discard, as mere fable, everything which 
savors of the saintly or miraculous. 

The first missionary who visited Ire- 
land, of whom we have reliable informa- 



tion, was St. Palladius. He attempted 
to locate at Wicklow ; but the people 
there already had a religion, which they 
had for a long time practiced and relied 
upon, and, resenting any attempt to in- 
troduce a new one, they drove the saint 
away. He sailed northward, and was 
overtaken by a storm ; in short, his mis- 
sion was a failure, and it is said that he 
died in the land of the Britons ; while 
by some it is claimed that the Scots, who, 
it seems, were as much averse to inno- 
vations upon their religion as the Wick- 
low people, subjected him to martyrdom. 
The Irish people are peculiar in regard 
to their religious belief. Having adopted 
a creed and mode of worship, they at 
once become extremely anxious about 
the souls of others who practice a differ- 
ent form of worship. Nothing so exas- 
perates an Irishman as to see one of a 
different sect hesitating and lingering on 
the verge of destruction, and he at once 
sets about accomplishing one of two 
things : either his conversion, or an end to 
all doubt and suspense in the matter, by 
sending him to perdition at once. All 
feel the same deep interest in the spirit- 
ual welfare of their fellow-men, and are 
ready to cure their unbelief and put them 
beyond the reach of what they regard as 
superstition and a soul-destroying idola- 
try, by treating them, when other reme- 
dies fail, in such a manner as to end 
their unbelief and life at the same instant. 
Attempts at conversion of this kind have 
been made from time to time for centu- 
ries past, and many thousands who have 
refused to be saved, except according 
to certain forms, have been piously killed. 
Revivals of religion among the Irish are 
not confined to Ireland, but have occur- 
red in other countries. The anniversary 
of the Battle of the Boyne, and similar 
occasions, stir up a religious feeling in 
both Orangemen and Ribbonmen, so 
strong as to make it difficult for them to 



EIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND, THE WORLD OVER. 



29 



restrain themselves from actual slaughter; 
in fact the religious fervor of the Irishmen 
of one sect is extremely dangerous to the 
members of another. Not long since a 
party of Orangemen arrauged to cele- 
brate in an American city — and a party 
of Irish engineers at work on the high- 
way with pick and shovel, saw them pass 
in procession, aud at once undertook to 
enlighten their minds, and convert them 
to the true religion. The Orangemen 
were obstinate and refused to be saved, 
but their resistance only served to in- 
crease the zeal of the Ribbonmen. The 
result was a religious war in the streets 
of the city, in which a number of each 
side perished. Protestant funerals and 
Irish wakes followed, leaving each side 
more than ever determined upon the 
conversion of the other. The Ameri- 
cans look upon this earnest desire to 
promote Christianity and enlighten the 
heathen with great satisfaction, and re- 
gard it as a guarantee that purity and 
fair dealing is to prevail in the adminis- 
tration of the affairs of that country, 
which they have resigned to the manage- 
ment of the Irish people. 

The wonderful works of St. Patrick 
have been more than once overlooked in 
the controversy over his birth-place ; 
men are so apt to drop questions of 
interest in the discussion of a subject, 
to follow off some unimportant and in- 
significant inquiry, forgetting important 
principles in the pursuit of uniuteresting 
figures or circumstances. St. Patrick 
was not an Irishman — this seems to be 
settled, as well as the fact that he was 
taken to Ireland a captive. 

St. Patrick's name was not Patrick, 
but OelestLne. He was baptized by the 
name of Succat, which means " brave 
in battle." He converted Ireland ; and 
the Irish, from a wild, warlike, and sav- 
age race ; became, under his teachings, 
the mild, serene, and amiable people of 



to-day. How completely he subdued 
their proud spirits aud subjected them 
to the discipline of peace aud good 
order we have daily proof ; but par- 
ticularly are we impressed with the fact, 
when we see, on the anniversary of his 
birth, the famed St. Patrick's day, a 
procession of his followers meekly march- 
ing to the strains of music aud sweetly 
smiling on the admiring spectators. 
Processions of this character have been 
known to march over a route of three 
and even five miles, with a very limited 
amount of bloodshed and loss of life, so 
completely have they their passions in 
subjection, and so careful are they of the 
rights and happiness of others. 

The admiving moderns love to dwell 
on this subject, and look forward with 
hope to the time when St. Patrick's day 
will be a national holiday. In the mean- 
time they sing : 

'Tis St. Patrick's day, my boys, 
And I hear a rushing noise, 
And a sound like the tramp of many feet, 
And the Mick's, and O's, are out. 
While their marshals trot about. 
And the gallowglasses move along the street. 

Run, run, run, the Micks are marching, 

Their banners are waving far and wide. 

And these gentlemen from Cork 

Now monopolize New York, 

.So the Yankees to-day must stand aside. 

Oh, the bands are playing loud, 

As I gaze upon the crowd 
So I linger and I listen from afar, 

But I never get too near, 

For I have a wholesome fear 
Lest a black-thorn my Yankee features mar. 
Run, run. run, etc. 

But bring the cannon out, 

Let us drink, and fight, and shout, 
Let Erin, sweet Erin have her way. 

For St. Patrick's day, hurra! 

We will make it then by law. 
Yes, we'll make it the nation's holiday. 

Run, run, run, etc. 

Some writers have been bold enough 
to name the year of St. Patrick's birth, 



30 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



and have fixed it in 387. It is believed, 
that he was taken to Ireland a prisoner, 
when he was about sixteen years of age, 
and was sold as a slave to four men in the 
county of Antrim, one of whom bought 
out what interest the other three had in 
him, and set him to keeping sheep and 
swine. Exposed to severe weather by 
day and night, lonely, disconsolate and 
sorrow-stricken, the story of that part 
of his life is one of grief and misery. 
Tell it to an Irishman, and his lip will 
quiver and the tears of sorrow and sym- 
pathy trickle down his cheeks. After 
six years a voice addressed him in the 
stillness of the night, and it said : " Go 
to the shore, and you will find a ship 
waiting to take you to your own coun- 
try." And he obeyed the voice, and went 
to the shore and found a ship, but the 
captain was an obstinate, unaccommo- 
dating son of the sea, who possessed no 
knowledge of the doctrines which St. 
Patrick was in time to preach with so 
much success, nor did he know St. Pat- 
rick from any other man, just retired 
from the business of tending sheep and 
swine. He refused the saint a passage ; 
but storms arose, and the sea became 
so rough, that the captain changed his 
mind. We fully believe that St. Patrick 
heard the voice as represented. Invita- 
tions of the same kind have been given 
in modern times to suffering bondsman. 
In America, before the abolition of 
slavery, such voices were more than once 
heard by the slave, and sometimes he 
obeyed the call and sought freedom suc- 
cessfully ; but oftener he was hunted 
down, caught, and returned to bondage, 
and the man who owned the voice which 
called him— for it always belonged to 
somebody — woe to him, if detected. If 
the owner of the slave failed to get his 
neighbors together and punish him in 
such a manner as to silence the objec- 
tionable voice forever, the law in its 



majesty took charge of him, and he 
went to prison for a moderate term, say 
twenty years. It has always been con- 
sidered a shameful crime to tamper with 
slaves, and the most dangerous kind of 
tampering was to intimate to one that 
liberty was desirable, and aid him to 
obtain it. 

Why St. Patrick's master neglected 
to follow him, and failed to look up the 
man whose voice enticed his servant to 
leave him, we are at a loss to determine. 
Perhaps St. Patrick had other subjects 
on his mind, and thought but little of 
the sheep and swine ; and perhaps the 
sheep got lost, and the swine broke into 
his master's garden and made havoc 
among the cabbages which have always 
been a favorite crop with the Irish peo- 
ple — and for such reasons the master 
may have thought that the slave was not 
worth following. 

The men with whom the saint left 
Ireland landed with him. They were 
compelled to travel through a desert, 
wheTe their supply of food gave out, 
and they would certainly have perished 
but for the prayers of St. Patrick, which 
brought them all they needed. It is said 
that St. Patrick was a captive the sec- 
ond time, but he was only held for the 
short term of sixty days. 

St. Patrick received a formal invita- 
tion to locate in Ireland, and cannot be 
accused of intruding himself upon the 
Irish people after the manner of the 
modern " Carpet-bagger." 

A man by the name of Victoricus, 
appeared to him in a dream or vision, 
and it was him, that invited the saint — 
though we know not by what authority. 
Instead of going to Ireland he went to 
Italy, where he stayed many years ; but 
finally, and in the year A. D. 432, St. 
Patrick landed in Ireland, fully prepared 
for his mission, having a store of know- 
ledge acquired in Italy, necessary books 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



31 



and papers, but above all, most precious 
relics, among which was an image of 
Mary, which, for a long time, continued 
to heal the deaf and dumb ; a miraculous 
staff, which performed many wonderful 
miracles, and other most useful relics — 
since they cured the sick, restored the 
lame, the halt, and the blind, and, in 
short, furnished a sure remedy for all the 
ills that flesh is heir to ; but the sav- 
age Saxons captured and destroyed them 
all, burning crosses, images, and sacred 
bones, till we wonder that a people so 
wicked were allowed to escape with such 
slight reprimands as the great fire of 
London and the Plague. 

St. Patrick, as we have already inti- 
mated, was not well received by the 
people where he first attempted to land, 
so he sought another landing place, and 
was made welcome by Dicho, the lord of 
the soil, whom he soon converted ; but 
his stay with Dicho was brief, for a 
strong desire to visit old scenes led him 
back to the county of Antrim, where 
he had formerly lived as a slave. Milcho, 
his old master, heard of his approach ; 
but, instead of taking steps to recover 
his property, he allowed the chattel to 
go about uninterrupted. He was ex- 
tremely indignant, however ; so much so 
that he shut himself up in his own house 
and set it on fire, perishing in the flames. 
From his conduct we infer that he was 
a good deal irritated. 

A great deal has been said about St. 
Patrick's canons, but we feel sure, after 
a careful examination of the authorities, 
that he went to Ireland unarmed, and 
that his conquest was of the most peace- 
ful character. We have referred to the 
effect of his teachings upon the natives, 
and have seen how ferocious wolves were 
changed into the quietest of lambs, yet 
there is nothing in the facts which amount 
to a tax on our credulity. It must be 
remembered that he took with him to 



Ireland a large stock of knowledge, 
many useful books, and those powerful 
relics. 

There was a time when snakes abound- 
ed in Ireland ; whether the Greeks were 
annoyed by them, or whether they ap- 
peared among the troubles which made 
Parthalon unhappy, we cannot say. We 
only know that they met St. Patrick on 
his arrival in Ireland in such numbers as 
to attract his attention, and enlist his 
pity for the suffering natives ; he re- 
sorted to his relics, and made the snakes 
so uncomfortable and so much ashamed 
of themselves, that they left the island. 
An Irishman, who witnessed their emi- 
gration, has left a short account of the 
conduct of the snakes. They came in from 
all parts of the island — rattle-snakes, 
vipers and adders, whip-snakes and cow- 
suckers, black snakes, calico-snakes, gar- 
ter-snakes, land and water-snakes, with 
anacondas, boa constrictors, and copper- 
heads. They formed a procession and 
moved (without instrumental music), 
towards the shore, near Kerry. St. 
Patrick and his followers watched their 
progress from an eminence, near which 
they passed. Embittered by their ban- 
ishment, they hissed fiercely at the saint 
as they passed him, but he remained 
calm, and responded by singing a hymn, 
in which his followers joined. They 
passed into the sea, and were last seen 
rolling, splashing and writhing in the 
angry waves, still moving in a westerly 
direction towards America, while St 
Patrick and his newly-converted follow- 
ers continued to chant : 



Depart, ye serpents vile, 

And if my curse 
You do not heed, 

Look out for something worse. 
In this bless' d Isle 

You shall no longer stay — 
Adders and rattle-snakes, 

And copperheads away. 



32 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND TEE WORLD OVER. 



Resistance is in vain ; 

By my control 
Ye shall go marching on, 

Like John Brown's soul, 
In vain you writhe and hiss, 

In vain you rave — 
Not Satan's arts combined 

With Tammany can save. 



CHAPTER VI. 

The Festival of Beltinne — Fire prohibited — A 
Smoker in Trouble — Boldness of St. Patrick — 
King Laeghaire — Public Discussion — Crom 
Cruach — Destroyed by a Miracle — Coming of 
St. Brendan Foretold — The Chieftain Daire 
gives Land for a Cathedral — His Example fol- 
lowed in America — Public Property gener- 
ously given away — The Donors not Impover- 
ished by such Gifts — St. Patrick Dies— His 
Death Foretold by the Pagan Prophets — The 
Ball of Brains — Vanity of Conor — His Skull 
Fractured — Driven mad by a Prophecy — His 
Strange Death — Superstition condemned by 
the Church — Another Pagan King — St. Brid- 
gid, or Bridget, of Bridgids-town— She takes 
the Veil with Eight Maidens — Lines to Brid- 
get—Her Death — The Grave of the Saint 
—How revealed — St. Patrick's Shrine — His 
Right Hand — An Ancient Burial Place dese- 
crated — The Bones of Relatives hard to re- 
cognize. 

It was a custom with the pagan Irish, 
during the reigu of King Laeghaire, to 
celebrate at Tara the festival of the 
Beltinne, or the fire of Bal, or Baal ; and 
upon such occasions it was forbidden to 
light any fire until a flame was visible 
from the top of Tara Hill. This regula- 
tion was enforced with great rigor, and 
on one occasion a thoughtless Irishman 
was severely punished for lighting his 
pipe, contrary to the rule. He had pur- 
chased of a loquacious street pedlar, an 
endless match, and thought himself able 
to avoid detection, and take a qniet 
smoke, iu spite of the watchful officers 
of King Laeghaire, but an awful stench, 
suggestive of things infernal, betrayed 
him. The law was properly vindicated, 
and the smoker punished. 



St. Patrick, intent upon bearding the 
lion in his den, or, to be more definite, 
determined to meet and contend with 
Satan on his own ground, started for 
the festival of Beltinne. He paid uo 
attention to the rule concerning the use 
of fire, and King Laeghaire was very 
indignant when informed that St. Pat- 
rick treated his religion and its ceremo- 
nies with contempt. Determined to look 
into the matter himself, he started out, 
followed by his numerous bards and a 
large number of needy kinfolks, who 
were paying the Ring a visit of a few 
years. He ordered the saint brought 
before him, and, to come to the point at 
once, it was agreed that religious mat- 
ters should be publicly discussed on the 
very next day, St. Patrick to advocate 
the claims of the Christian religion, while 
the Bards were to take the Beltinne side 
of the question. The debate took place 
as arranged, but the king remained as 
stubborn and as determined in his inten- 
tion to have his way, and as deaf to the 
preachings of the saint, as an Orange- 
man to the arguments of a Ribbonman, 
or vice-versa. St. Patrick, however, 
was allowed to proceed, though his life 
was repeatedly threatened. 

The Irish nation at that time had an 
idol called Crom Cruach, which we have 
had occasion to refer to, and St. Pat- 
rick despised it. " He saw it first from 
the water, and elevated his voice " In 
other words, the saint was angry at the 
folly and the wickedness of the Pagans. 
He approached the idol, holding in his 
hand the miraculous staff, which he had 
brought with him from Rome, and which 
had relieved so many of the blind and 
the afflicted, and when he attempted to 
lay it on the idol, it bent over to escape 
being touched, but all in vain. St. Pat- 
rick laid on the staff, and to this day 
the mark on its left side remains visible, 
for we believe that a part of it is still m 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



33 



existence. The staff remained all the 
time in the saint's hand, and as he was 
in the act of laying it on to Crom 
Cruach, twelve other idols, which seemed 
to be doing a sort of guard duty around 
the main monster, sank into the ground 
up to their heads, where they remain, 
the main idol being still bent over. 

St. Patrick prophesied the coming of 
St. Brendan, and St. Brendan came 
about that time. The saint narrowly es- 
caped death by the hand of an assassin ; 
his charioteer generously took the blow 
intended for him and died. A wealthy 
chief, named Daire, gave the Church land 
for a cathedral, an example which has 
been nobly followed by the generous 
authorities of New York, whose dona- 
tions of land alone amount to many 
millions, and in money to many millions 
more. 

Sinners, Satan's friends and followers, 
have denounced these gifts on the ground 
that the land and the money belonged 
to the people ; that it was public prop- 
erty ; that to give it to any religious sect, 
or use it in any manner except for the 
good of the public generally, was a mis- 
appropriation of it. Such shallow argu- 
ments have not and will not be regarded. 
In the first place, the men who use them 
are wicked and perverse Americans or 
unbelieving Germans. For what if the 
donation is not authorized by law, the 
proceeds are used for the most pious pur- 
poses, which of itself should silence all 
cavil and complaint, and no doubt will 
satisfy all but a few bigoted, fault-find- 
ing heretics. 

The parties who thus appropriare the 
proceeds of taxation, display not only 
pure and earnest piety, but a thrift and 
business tact most commendable ; it is 
noticed, that they do not give away any- 
thing which is their own, so that no 
matter how liberally they may bestow 
land and money on others, their own 



fortunes remain unimpaired. It is a part 
of the tax which America pays to the 
Irish people in return for their able 
statesmen, and generals, and the honest 
legislators furnished by them for the use 
of their beloved country. 

St. Patrick died, and though there are 
many who deny that he ever lived, and 
claim that he !s a myth, the creation 
of some lively imagination, we assert 
that he died like a mortal, and was 
buried. We have used none but fair 
means to arrive at our conclusion, when 
we found that the very existence of 
St. Patrick was disputed. We at once 
investigated and discovered that the au- 
thorities were so evenly balanced as to 
make it difficult to decide. In fact, so 
far as the proof is concerned, neither 
side has any advantage over the other ; 
so we deliberately threw up a piece of 
money, assigning tails for St. Patrick, 
heads for the myth — and we preferred 
tails, and won. We regard this as al- 
most a miracle, and therefore call upon 
the reader to receive as truth all the 
miracles and wonderful doings we have 
related, together with the further state- 
ment, that St. Patrick died on the 14th 
day of March, in the year of our Lord 
492. 

It is claimed, that the prophets of the 
pagan Irish foretold the coming of the 
Saint, and this has been admitted by his 
followers. It is with great reluctance, 
that we admit a fact, which tends to 
make the idolatrous Druids look even 
respectable, but we are compelled to 
allow that they knew St. Patrick was 
coming, and said so. 

The ancient Irish were not in the 
habit of scalping their enemies, but had 
a practice of opening the head and tak- 
ing out the brains, which were mixed 
with lime, and made into a ball, which 
was preserved as a trophy of the warrior's 
valor. One of the balls, highly prized, 



34 



EIBERNIA; OB, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER 



passed into the hands of a famous Con- 
naught champion, who used it most 
treacherously. Conor, proud of his 
personal appearance and fine clothes, 
was in the act of displaying himself to 
the best advantage to the ladies of an 
opposing army, who had attended their 
lords to the scene of action, when the 
Connaught man threw the ball, so as to 
lodge it in the brain of Conor. He was 
taken home senseless ; he soon after 
recovered to some extent, but was ad- 
vised by a homoeopathic physician to 
avoid all excitement and violence, which 
Conor undertook to do, but a clairvoy- 
ant, lying in a trance, and in the act of 
telling him about his ailment, and the 
best mode of treating it, discovered that 
the crucifixion was at that moment in 
progress. Conor had never heard of 
Jerusalem, and had no knowledge of 
the great event, except what the clair- 
voyant gave him, and he was so much 
affected, and so completely overcome by 
the terrible revelation, that he rushed 
madly into a neighboring forest, where 
he remained raving, and hewing down 
trees until death quieted him — and in this 
way died the good King Conor MacNessa. 

The above account is taken from one 
given by a sound and reliable Catholic 
writer, and we accept it as truth — all 
the more readily for the reason that the 
same writer tells us, and even protests, 
that he cannot and will not tolerate 
any thing of a fabulous character, and 
he goes on to inform us with what pious 
indignation the Church authorities re- 
gard all superstitions, and how terrible 
will be the punishment of such as allow 
themselves to be misled or influenced by 
such heathenish inventions. 

Oilliall Molt followed King Laegh- 
haire, but the preachings of St. Patrick 
failed to reach him ; he lived and died 
a miserable pagan. It does not appear 
that he made war, or that he was cruel 



or unjust to his followers. He appears 
to have been a peaceable, quiet, and 
well-disposed ruler. Muirheartach, who 
became king in the year of Our Lord 
504, was the first Christian King of 
Ireland. He was engaged in continual 
war. He was much annoyed at the 
fact that he was compelled to pay trib- 
ute to Leinster, and he kept on fighting 
till death put a stop to his ambitious 
schemes. He was of the northern race 
of Hy Nials ; but when he died his 
crown went to the Southern Hy Nials, a 
fact which the reader should not fail to 
remember. 

And now St. Bridgid appears, whose 
name has been perpetuated and kept 
alive, while those of generals and con- 
querors have been forgotten by ungrate- 
ful men, or swallowed up in the vortex 
of revolution. It is cherished chiefly 
by Irishmen and Americans ; it is a 
gleam of sunshine, which lights up the 
domestic circle ; it is the consolation of 
suffering housekeepers, the comfort of 
fond mothers ; it is a healing balm for 
all the afflictions which meet us in the 
family circle — the tender nurse, the 
faithful cook, the skillful laundress, the 
blooming chambermaid, all answer to 
that name, while it brings to mind every- 
thing tending to beautify home or add 
to its comfort. 

St. Bridgid knew all about one of 
Muirheartach's battles before he fought 
it. This we must believe, for a pious 
historian has told us so. We are placed 
in an awkward situation about it. To 
doubt is to be skeptical, and to be skep- 
tical is sinful ; to believe is to be super- 
stitious, and superstition implies igno- 
rance. Our course is plain ; call us 
ignorant, but do not say that we are 
wicked— and just here we desire to say 
that in preparing this volume we shall 
avoid sin so far as the nature of the sub- 
ject will allow us to do so 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



35 



St. Bridgid's family descended from 
Eochod, a brother of Conn of the hun- 
dred battles. So it appears that her 
family were much inclined to peace, for 
her brother only fought one hundred bat- 
tles, when he might have fought double 
that Dumber. She was born about the 
year 453, and at Kildare she began her 
labors. At sixteen she took the veil, 
with eight other young maidens, and 
went to reside at Bridgids-town. Some 
idea of her purity of life and conduct 
may be inferred from the following 

LINE8 TO BRIDGET. 
Composed by one of the Eight Maidens. 
Who always comes with winning smile, 
Our cares, our sorrows to heguile, 
And dresses in the latest style ? 
Bridget. 

Who o'er our little habes doth keep 
A watch untiring, while they sleep, 
Or gently chides them, when they weep ? 
Bridget. 

Who never has a beau at night, 
And in her home takes great delight, 
ind always makes the coffee right ? 
Bridget. 

Who lets her mistress take her ease, 
And tries her very best to please, 
And never with her disagrees ? 
Bridget. 

And who on Sunday shuns the street, 
And never has a friend to meet, 
And always looks so trim and neat ? 
Bridget. 

Who never wears a crimp or curl, 
Nor calls her master " Such a churl," 
And never cuffs your little girl ? 
Bridget. 

Who does her work with greatest care, 
Is apt and ready everywhere, 
And never breaks your china ware ? 
Bridget. 

Who has your interest at heart, 
And does not from your dwelling start, 
And when your wife is sick, depart ? 
Bridget. 



Who never wastes your bread nor meat, 
Nor gives it to her friends to eat, 
When you are wrapt in slumbers sweet ? 
Bridget. 

Who never does go out to call, 
Nor wears the madam's waterfall, 
But cleans the paint and scrubs the hall ? 
Bridget. 

Who knows just how to cook a steak, 
And how to make the nicest cake, 
And can a charming pudding make ? 
Bridget. 

Who when your friends a visit pay, 
Is bright and joyous all the day, 
And sorry when they go away ? 
Bridget. 

St Bridgid died A.D. 528. Two 
hundred years after her death, the at- 
tending circumstances had been forgot- 
ten and lost, and even her burial-place 
became a matter of uncertainty, and St. 
Columba's prophecy — 

' ' My prosperity is in guiltless Hy, 
And my soul in Deny, 
And my body under the flag 
Beneath which are Patrick and Bridgid's," 

does not entirely satisfy us on the sub- 
ject. It may be true, but we deny that 
it is in rhyme. 

Some idea of the difficulties met with 
in preserving relics in ancient times may 
be inferred from the fact, that the Danes 
pillaged Downpatrick and the cathe- 
dral seven times between the years 940 
and 1111. If the bodies of the three 
saints were found at all, they were found 
in the following manner : The prelate 
in charge of the church was extremely 
anxious to discover the bodies of the 
saints, and one day, as he prayed, the 
exact spot was revealed to him. He 
caused the earth to be removed, and 
the body of St. Patrick was found, with 
that of St. Columba on one side and St. 
Bridgid's on the other. 

Arrangements were at once made to 
remove the relics, and the Pope, being 
notified, sent Cardinal Yivian all the 



36 



HIBERN1A; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



way from Rome to preside over the cer- 
emony, which took place on the 9th of 
Juue, 1186. (We are able to give the 
particulars, for it only took place 700 
years ago). 

The right hand of St. Patrick was 
enshrined on the high altar ; but the 
jealousy of the Britons still pursued the 
devout Irish, and the hand was taken 
away by a military commander. In 
1538, Lord Grey destroyed the statues 
of the saints and burned the cathedral, 
but did not exult long — he lost his 
head three years afterwards. This 
desecration was insignificant compared 
with what took place subsequently. 
The burying-gronnd was invaded by 
the spirit of the age, — the ground was 
wanted for some purpose, and the 
bones of the thousands who had laid 
down there to sleep with the saints 
were hustled out of their resting-places, 
and, after being carted from place to 
place, were dumped about in piles, like 
manure on Long Island. In some 
cases friends came forward, and taking 
charge of the bones of their ancestors, 
had them carefully buried ; but enough 
occurred during the desecration to 
prove, that after a man has been dead 
a thousand years, or even five hundred, 
his relatives think very little of him 
or his bones. 

This indifference, no doubt, results 
in many instances from the difficulty of 
distinguishing, after the expiration of a 
few centuries, the features of our ances- 
tors from those of the ancestors of some 
one else. St. Bridgid and St. Patrick 
retain their hold on the Irish heart. 
Iudeed, the whole world feels thankful 
to them ; for whenever mankind con- 
siders what the Irish people are to-day, 
and what they might have been but fo^ 
the teachings of these saints, what heart 
does not overflow with gratitude and 
love. 



CHAPTER VII. 

The Irish attracted by Wealth and Power— Lib- 
eral offers of the Americans— An Irish Popu- 
lation secured— The Song of the Alderman- 
Irish Sayings and Salutations— St. John's Eve 
— Cure for the Murrain — Jack-Stones — Origin 
of the Wake — Curious Customs— The Keen— 
A Panama Funeral — The Keen in Africa — The 
Irish and Africans descended from a Common 
Ancestor — The Brehon Law — Compensation 
for Murder— Letters, etc. — Arms and Jewelry 
—The Curse of Tara— Flachtga Fire Tax— 
The First of May celebrated— The First Mill- 
King Brian Dubb— His Stratagem and Victory 
— St. Brendan discovered America in 543 — He 
Visits the Ohio River — Meets an Old Man- 
Speculations on the subject — Names the Coun- 
try after St. Columba — A Song and Parody - 
St. Adamaim — The Law against killing Wo- 
men to be enacted in New York. 

The uninformed, no doubt, wonder 
that so many of the people of Ireland 
leave their native island to seek homes 
among strangers. We are compelled to 
admit that the Irish are not insensible 
to the attractions of wealth and power, 
and the nations of the earth, in their 
anxiety to secure an Irish population, 
have freely offered both. No nation so 
much needed the aid of a people old iu 
the science of government and skilled in 
all the arts which lead to national pros- 
perity, as the people of the United 
States. 

With their usual discernment they 
discovered that their own inexperience 
and want of statesmanship made it im- 
proper for them to undertake the man- 
agement of a great government, and they 
wisely selected those who were to assume 
this important responsibility and perform 
labors so arduous, from amoug the de- 
scendants of Mac Coole and the follow- 
ers of St. Patrick. Come to our shores, 
ye gentle children of the Greek maidens, 
descendants of Parthalon, and beloved 
relations of King Solomon, and you shall 
have wealth and power, you shall sit in 
the high places, you shall be our gov- 
ernors, and we will strive to do you 
honor. Such was the invitation, and. 



HIBERNIA; OR,' IRELAND TEE WORLD OYER 



3T 



strange to say, they accepted it and em- 
igrated to a considerable extent. True, 
they might have been more enthusiastic 
and moved in larger numbers, but let us 
be thankful that they have responded 
as well as they have. We have a govern- 
ment which depends for its support and 
continuance upon the intelligence of the 
people, and we have the intelligent peo- 
ple necessary to maintain and perpetu- 
ate such a government, thanks to Ire- 
land. The Irish are not ignorant of the 
benefits heaped by them upon the Amer- 
ican people ; they feel that their presence 
in this country has secured to it a rich 
harvest of prosperity, and, influenced by 
this feeling, they tax the natives without 
reluctance, and reward themselves M it 
of the proceeds. Who will complain < 
Not those certainly who have been so 
well protected and so honestly governed. 
A happy Irishman gives us his experi- 
ence in America, and, giving his own, 
gives that of thousands of others. We 
present his own words, which are far 
more expressive than any we can furnish: 

When I landed in New York, 

Shure I had a dacent trade, 
Which I put aside at once, 

With my shovel and my spade. 
For election day came on, 

And for office then I ran ; 
By my troth, I was in luck, 

For they made me alderman. 

I was hardly in my seat 

When a chap gave me the wink, 
And he whispered come with me, 

For a social little drink. 
Then he told me of his case. 

And he bargained for my vote, 
And next day I found the cash, 

In the pocket of my coat. 

Sure I wear the best of clothes, 

And have money in my fob, 
And I know just what is meant 

When they say "a little job." 
With a diamond in my shirt, 

And a glossy nobby hat, 
'Tis "your excellency" now, 

Not "how are you, ragged Pat.'' 



In the famous City Hall, 

I'm the servant of the nation, 
And I'm paid a handsome sum 

For my honest legislation. 
I am rich, and nevermore 

Shall my wife and children need — 
Thanks to Yankees who submit 

While their pocket-books I bleed. 

When election comes again, 

Sure for sheriff I will run, 
For I understand the game, 

And will show the people fun. 
My repeaters are on hand, 

And my fighters are about, 
And my opponent can't win, 

For I'll have him counted out. 

The sayings of the Irish people, their 
proverbs, and salutations, have been of 
great use to us, but we are not pre- 
pared to give them an Oriental origin, 
simply because they resembled expres- 
sions made nse of in the East. The Irish 
" God save you " and " God bless all 
here," and the Eastern " God bless thee, 
my son," are somewhat similar, but this 
does not prove that St. Patrick was kin 
to Zoroaster, or King Darius to Mac 
Coole. It is customary at this day to 
celebrate St. John's eve by watch-fires, 
and this originated in Pagan times — 
among those it is supposed who wor- 
shipped the sun ; but the gentle practice 
of passing cattle through the fire has 
been dispensed with. However, within 
one hundred years a calf was sacrificed 
on one of these fires to stop the mur- 
rain — and the wren is still hunted on 
St. Stephen's day, a bird once held sac- 
red by the Druids and persecuted by the 
Christians on that account. The game 
of jack-stones, (played everywhere by 
the boys,) had its origin when the world 
was young, and the Irish people great 
and prosperous — it is supposed to be a 
legacy left to Ireland and the world, 
by the Greeks. " Pricking the loop" is 
another Irish game, borrowed from their 
ancestors, the Greeks, who called it 



38 



HIBEBNIA; OB, IBELAND THE WOBLB OVEB. 



" Pricking the garter," or words to that | 
effect. The " Irish Wake " had a most 
noble origin ; it resembles too closely 
the funeral feasts of the Greeks and the 
Romans to leave any doubt on the sub- 
ject. It is a curious fact that many 
Pagan customs were retained by the 
Christians, some of which are still prac- 
ticed. To salute a person in the act 
of sneezing is a Pagan custom which 
the Irish still observe. Addressing the 
sneezer with a " God bless you," desig- 
nating certain places as sacred, fasting, 
and bodily macerations, are all Pagan, 
but still practiced by Christians. This 
we know, but we are not able to give a 
reason why idolatry should be abolished 
and its superstitions and ceremonies re- 
tained. The Keen or (Caoine) has no 
reference to Keno, nor any other game. 
It is a most doleful custom — an awful 
wailing for the dead by mourners hired 
for that purpose, who are generally old 
women, who by years of practice are 
able to weep and howl at a funeral till 
death and the corpse are forgotten in 
their strange performances, more fearful 
and awe-inspiring than either. They re- 
hearse a long list of virtues which are 
ascribed to the dead person, and no mat- 
ter who or what he was, his good traits, 
actions, and qualities are howled forth 
with an accompaniment df gnashing of 
teeth and tearing of hair. We once wit. 
nessed, (years ago), a funeral in Cruces, 
on the Isthmus of Panama. The proces- 
sion was led by a band of fiddlers, and 
as it moved from the hut, a group of 
mourners set up that wail, so common in 
Ireland — in short, it was the Irish Keen. 
We do not urge this as proof that the 
white-skinned sons of " Erinn," are re- 
lated to the black-skinned sons of Cen- 
tral America. The circumstance taken 
by itself does not amount to conclusive 
evidence ; but we are informed by 
learned historians and travellers that the 



Irish Keen may still be heard in some 
parts of Africa, as Herodotus heard it 
in his day, chanted by African women 
This leads us to believe that the customs 
of Africa and Ireland had the same ori- 
gin, and the other conclusion follows, 
naturally, that the people of the two 
countries came from the same common 
ancestor ; and it is now thought by some 
of the wisest and most learned that 
either the Africans of to-day are Irish- 
men scorched and blackened by expo- 
sure to the winds of the desert, and a 
burning sun, or that the Irish are Afri- 
cans who have been bleached to some- 
thing like whiteness by the cool breezes 
of the ocean in more northern latitudes. 
Africa has for many centuries supplied 
the world with slaves, and we think — in 
the theory that the ancestors of the. 
Irish once lived in that country — we 
have found a clue to the birth-place of 
St. Patrick, for if he was not an Afri- 
can and black, why and by what right 
was he sold into slavery ? and why was 
he compelled to keep sheep and swine ? 
The mists which obscured the subject 
are fast clearing away ; and we find in 
the facts a solution of the question, why 
was the statue of St. Peter, at Rome, 
made to represent him with an Ethio- 
pian complexion ? The difference betweeu 
those who inhabit Africa, and those who 
live in Ireland is very slight. In Amer- 
ica, some time since, a locust stung a 
colored Celt, which had the effect to 
make his skin peel off, so that he came 
out an interesting blonde, a circumstance 
which, after all, shows the difference to 
be only about the thickness of the skin. 
Some writers have contended that the 
hatred, that bitter antipathy which the 
two branches of the Irish nation feel for 
each other, contradicts our view of the 
matter. We, on the contrary, look upon 
it as proof in our favor. The most san- 
guinary feuds are such as exist, and are 



EIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE IrORLD OVER. 



29 



carried on by members of the same 
family, and we can see nothing in the 
quarrel in progress but a family trouble, 
which we may sincerely regret, but in 
which we cannot interfere with any 
prospect of advantage to ourselves or a 
favorable result to those involved. 

The Brehon law has existed from 
time immemorial. It has governed both 
Pagan and Christian Ireland. One of its 
peculiar provisions is the compensation 
for murder called Erie — just what it was 
we are not told. Prominent citizens of 
New York recommend its adoption in 
that city, where the trade of murder, 
though carried on extensively, seems 
never to have been organized or reduced 
to a system. Every person there, no mat- 
ter what his standing, is liable to become 
a victim — at the same time the law is so 
administered that no man knows when 
he commits a murder, whether he is to be 
hanged or not, though the chances are he 
will not suffer for the act. In some rare 
cases the murderer has been executed, 
an event which is sure to excite universal 
sympathy, and secure for the victim of 
the law, great distinction and a magnifi- 
cent funeral. So much uncertainty is 
objected to, and it is urged that murder, 
like other recognized professions, should 
be put upon a business basis, and re- 
duced to a matter of dollars and cents. 

Flachtga was the royal seat, where 
the fire of Flachtga was ordered to be 
kindled on the night of "All Saints." 
The Druids assembled at this place to 
offer sacrifices. It was provided, that 
all fire should be extinguished, and no 
fire be kindled on that night, through- 
out the kingdom ; and a violation of 
this provision was punished with great 
severity. The fire which was used 
afterwards was procured from that at 
Flachtga ; and, to obtain it, the people 
were obliged to pay about three pence 
yearly to the King of Munster. 



The 1st of May was celebrated at 
the royal palace of the King of Con- 
naught. His followers assembled there, 
bringing horses and alms, which the 
king accepted as an alderman accepts 
a gold watch, a purse, or a set of dia- 
monds, in our day. Two fires were 
built, and cattle were passed betweei 
them to keep off charms and the mnr 
rain. This celebration is kept up in 
some parts of Ireland. In New York, 
it is carefully observed, and processions 
of furniture wagons, loaded with house- 
hold furniture, soaked by the rain, which 
always falls on that day, parade the 
streets, followed by dejected-looking men, 
and nervous, excited-looking women. 
The fires go out on that day, but they 
do not go to Flachtga to kindle it, but 
use the parlor matches, which are dis- 
tributed among the citizens by pale- 
faced, interesting-looking youths. 

The first miller in Ireland was brought 
from over the sea by Cormac, the grand- 
son of Con. He built a water-mill, 
which was worked by a small stream 
which ran from it. The miller gave 
satisfaction, was reasonable in exacting 
toll — and 
"The miller's big dog lay on the mill floor 

And Bango was his name.' ' 

The spot where the banqueting hall 
once stood, has been identified. Its 
magnificence, and' the splendor of the 
feasts once held there, is a theme 
upon which the poet and the historian 
still dwell with pleasure. The vessels 
used were of the purest gold, and three 
times fifty cooks were employed, while 
a thousand soldiers added weight and 
grandeur to the occasion. No wonder 
they refer with pride to their ancestors. 
The Irish people have always been 
devoted to the potato, which they affec- 
tionately call the "pratee," and have 
lost no opportunity to celebrate its vir- 
tues. The following song was often 



40 



EIBEBNIA ; OR, IRELAND TH& WORLD VER. 



suDg at the feasts of the olden time. 
The air, which is purely Irish, has been 
shamelessly appropriated by the English, 
who call it 

"THE BRAVE OLD OAK." 
I sing of the vine, the " pratee " vine, 

That creepeth along the ground ; 
And that hath for a root, the rarest fruit 

That mortal man hath found. 
It waveth about, when the stars come out, 

It laughs in the morning light, 
Nor wilts through the day, in the sun's bright 
ray, 
But drinketh the dews of night. 
Then sing of the vine, 
The ' ' pratee ' ' vine — 

Success to the fruit it bears ; 
In the ashes, hot, 
And the steaming pot, 

We will bury all our cares. 

Away with the corn ; man was not born 

Such husky stuff to eat, 
And why should he sigh for the waving rye 

Or the loudly-boasted wheat. 
Then, the "pratees" bring, and we'll laugh 
and sing, 

Nor care for the storm without, 
Nor our daily toils ; but the pot that boils 

We'll greet with a joyful shout. 

Then sing of the vine, etc. 

Dairmaid was an unfortunate king. 
Tara was cursed during his reign, which 
was not his only misfortune. He hated 
St. Columba, and the saint made him 
uncomfortable in many ways. A woman 
who had devoted herself to a religious 
life was deprived of her cow, her only 
means of support, by one Guaire, at 
that time King of Connaught. Dair- 
maid resented the outrage, pronounced 
it cowardly, and declared war ; and the 
war cost more than the price of twenty 
cows. 

Hugh Ainmire was killed while en- 
gaged in collecting a tribute called the 
Boromean. The place where his death 
occurred was called the "Fort of the 
Bags." 

Brian Dubb, King of Leinster, resort- 
ed to a stratagem — from which the name 



was derived. Finding the enemy too 
powerful for him, he entered the camp 
as a leper, and reported that the Leins- 
ter men were about to surrender. At 
nightfall many bullocks were seen ap- 
proaching the camp with leathern bags. 
The drivers told the sentinels that they 
contained provisions, and they were per- 
mitted to lay them aside. In the night, 
an armed man sprang from each bag, 
and the king, who was no longer a 
leper, headed them and made short work 
of Hugh and his army. 

One of the best authenticated stories 
in Irish history is that of the discovery 
of America by St. Brendan. The Irish 
people, having all embraced Christianity, 
and there being no more souls in Ireland 
needing his saintly care, he longed to 
visit other countries, where he might 
find Pagans to christianize, and sinners 
to convert. He consulted St. Enda, 
the first Abbot of Arran, and, return- 
ing to Kerry, he prepared for a voyage. 
This was in the year 543, and 949 years* 
before Columbus set sail for the western 
world. At first he encountered rough 
seas and hazardous navigation, but in 
time the seas became smooth, and he 
glided along pleasantly, without the use 
of the oar or sails. Nothing is said of 
the temperature of the water, but we 
conclude that he drifted into the Gulf 
stream. At last, he landed on the coast 
of Virginia, and penetrated into the in- 
terior. A distinguished Irish historian 
tells us that, he travelled to the banks of 
the Ohio, where he met an old man who 
told him to halt, and advised him to 
return. Who could that old man have 
been ? We are told that he conversed 
with St. Brendan, so he could not have 
been an Indian. We do not hesitate to 
say that the Aborigines were ignorant 
of the Irish language, thirteen hundred 
years ago. It has been surmised, and 
we are disposed to adopt the theory. 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE. WORLD OVER. 



41 



that the old man was no other than 
a distinguished ex-Secretary of the Navy, 
whose appearance is that of an "ancient 
mariner," and whose age has long been 
a mystery and the subject of careful in- 
quiry — he was probably searching for ship 
timber and spars. It is probable that 
St. Brendan saw fit to name the newly- 
discovered continent after St. Columba, 
one of the most popular saints in Ire- 
land, and this explains much that we 
hear from the lips of American orators, 
and also gives us the origin of the song 
" Hail Columbia," which is only a poor 
imitation of the following old Irish song, 
sung centuries ago, by such bards as 
Barney McQuirk and Patsy O'Rourke : 

HAIL HIBERNIA. 

Hail Hibemia, happy land ! 

Hail Erin's sons ! the modest band 

Have made America their own, 

Have made America their own. 

And there on milk and honey feed, 

And still the simple natives bleed. 
- Obey, ye Yankees, all obey, 

For Irish governors make way ; 

Surrender Bible, common school — 

Remember they were born to rule. 
And still united, they shall be 
Guardians of the treasury ; 
Firmly with the Ring combined, 
Power and plenty they shall find. 

Immortal patriots rise no more, 
Look not upon your native shore, 
Now ruled, and by a stranger band, 
Now ruled, and by a stranger band. 
The bigot with the knave conspires, 
Against the sons of noble sires ; 
Who, for their country, dare not speak, 
Submissive seem, and tamely meek ; 
Though crime and lawlessness prevail, 
And all the plans of good men fail. 
And still united, etc. 

Be silent now ; the trump of fame 
And Washington's forgotten name 
Revive it not. but sing the praise, 
Revive it not, but sing the praise, 
With sounds of triumph, din and noise, 
Of Irishmen in corduroys. 
Of nearly every right bereft, 
Give up the few that still are left ; 



Yield Yankee spirit, smother pride ; 
Rough-shod, now over you they ride. 
Toil, Yankees, and your taxes pay, 
For Erin's sons must have full sway. 
And still united, etc. 

Some traitor to the party has composed 
the following parody : 

Americans awake, once more 
Unfurl your flag to every shore ; 
In triumph, bear it once again, 
In triumph, bear it once again. 
To warm the heart and cheer the eye, 
Wherever men in bondage sigh. 
Again that banner bright unfold, 
And 'round it, like your sires of old, 
Stand firm, and let your ranks reveal ■ 
A wall of loyal hearts and steel. 
Up ! for Columbia make one stand, 
It is your own, your native land. 
And when united, you shall be 
Rallying for your liberty, 
The plans of demagogues shall fail, 
And foes shall falter, too, and quail. 

To St. Adamnan, Ireland was indebted 
for the celebrated canon of Adamnan, 
or " Law not to kill women." It was 
enacted in 697, at a council held at Tara. 
It has been argued that when the law 
of compensation for murder, heretofore 
alluded to, is introduced into New York, 
that some of the provisions of the canon 
should be incorporated — so much of it 
at least as would regulate the killing of 
women, if it did not entirely abolish the 
practice. At present, women are dispos- 
ed of in a most confused and disorderly 
manner, and the law, or some law is much 
needed. 

St. Brendan returned from his west- 
ern voyage after an absence of seven 
years. 

The great desire upon the part of the 
Irish people to emigrate to America, is 
attributed to the account which the saint 
gave on his return of that country, its 
soil, and political institutions. It is sup- 
posed that the Irish have ever since that 
time made American politics a study, 
and the fact that they commenced to 



42 



HIBERNIA ; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD VER. 



do so twelve hundred years before tbe 
Americans themselves turned their atten- 
tion to the subject, explains why they 
are so much better qualified to-day to 
hold office, enforce the laws, and man- 
age the government, than the natives 
of the country. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Spread of Irish fame — Charlemagne an admirer 
— Ireland invaded by King Egfrid— His 
cruelty— The Inhabitants made Slaves — St. 
Adamnan intercedes for them, with success — 
The Shower of Silver— Of Honey— Of Blood- 
Blood Puddings invented — Single Combat — 
Slaughter of the Leinstermen — St. Samhthann 
— Rumrann, the Poet — More showers — Silver, 
Wheat, and Honey — Destructive Storms — 
Clubs, Societies and Rings — The Irish Ring 
of America — Danish Raids — Turgesius — Irish 
Dissensions — Cruelty of the Danes— Turge- 
sius drowned — The RocK of Cashel — Muir- 
heartach swings around the circle — Sitric, 
Son of Turgesius — He entraps Callaghan — 
Battle and Rescue of Callaghan — Rage of the 
Danes— Not restrained by Religion — Mahoun 
and Brian — Limerick Captured — Spoils— Boys, 
Girls, Gold and Women — Prisoners disposed 
of — Trouble — Material for transformation 
scenes. 

The fame of the Irish people spread 
rapidly among the natives, so that they 
even won the good opinion of Charle- 
magne, who admired them for their 
learning, their gentleness and their de- 
voted piety — traits which to this day re- 
main prominent in the Irish character. 

In the year A. D. 684, Egfrid, the 
Saxon King of Northumberland, in- 
vaded Ireland and waged war against 
the inhabitants, burning churches aud 
monasteries, and destroying precious 
relics, which had for centuries cured the 
ailments and relieved the afflictions of 
the people. 

The practice of medicine seems to 
have declined. Doctors were not nu- 
merous, and the few who relied upon 
medicine as a means of subsistence found 



themselves unable to compete with the 
sacred relics, so common in Ireland be- 
fore their destruction by the invaders. 
The destruction of these relics was a 
real affliction ; for this barbarity on the 
part of their enemies left the Irish at 
the mercy of plague, pestilence, and dis- 
ease of every character. 

St. Adamnan was sent to Northum- 
bria, after the death of the King, to in- 
tercede for the enslaved Irish, which he 
did in such a manner as to melt the 
strong hearts even of the Northumbri- 
ans. They released their captives, and 
allowed them to return to Ireland. 

Congal died in the year A. D. 708. 

About this time continual war raged 
in different parts of Ireland. The 
tribute question kept the people in a 
state of irritation, while fierce battles fol- 
lowed every demand and refusal. Among 
the most wonderful events of the times, 
were three remarkable showers — a show- 
er of silver, a shower of honey, and a 
shower of blood. A shower of silver, pro- 
vided it fell in moderate sized pieces, 
would not be objectionable at this time. 

In an age when money can be used 
by the charitable to such an advantage 
in mitigating the sufferings of mankind 
and relieving their wants, a shower of 
money of some kind is greatly to be de- 
sired. The Irish people of the United 
States, who have such an interest in the 
govermnent, that they can dispose of the 
public revenues as they may think proper, 
of course, do not need it ; but an oc- 
casional shower would be a relief and 
comfort to the tax-payers. 

At first it may appear to the reader 
that a shower of honey could only prove 
a blessing to a people ; but there is 
such a thing as too much sweetness, — 
and too much of sweet Erin even. We 
are not told how long the shower last- 
ed, but have reasons to believe that a 
large quantity fell, and that it lay for 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



43 



several days, spread over the surface of 
the earth like molasses on a schoolboy's 
bread and butter. 

The shower fell on the 4th of July, 
when the people in their best clothes 
were out iu the groves, woods and beer 
gardens, listening to the reading of the 
Declaration of Independence, and 
Fourth-of-July orations, while the chil- 
dren amused themselves with small fire- 
works. Of course they became sticky, 
and their clothing suffered ; jockey-hats 
and artificial flowers suffered more than 
any other class of goods ; and white 
vests and pantaloons were not improved 
in their appearance. The country was 
thoroughly sweetened, and " Och, my 
honey." and " Pat, my honey," and 
" Honey, darling," are expressions which 
owe their origin to this remarkable 
shower of sweetness. 

Next came the shower of blood. The 
people saw iu this the forerunaer of 
disaster and trouble ; however, they did 
not give way to mourning and vain sor- 
row, but with the usual thrift of the Irish 
people they labored to turn the circum- 
stance to some account. They collected 
the surplus blood, and made it into pud- 
dings and ate them until the children re- 
belled, and the grown people longed for 
a change of diet. 

Though they do not object to a mod- 
erate amount of blood to this day, 
blood-pnddings are unpopular with the 
people of Ireland. 

Rumrann was an Irish poet. He com- 
posed a poem for " The foreigners of 
Dublin." They were probably Saxons 
who refused to pay his demand. To 
secure the amount agreed upon, he re- 
sorted to a stratagem. He told them he 
would be content with two pennies from 
every good man, and one from every bad 
one. It was pleasant to note what a 
good opinion each man had of himself. 
He was wise, poetical, skilled in chro- 



nology, and composed many excellent 
poems, but the following is the only one 
which has come down to us unimpared : 

Air — " Widow 3Iacree." 
Judy. — 
Oh I'm tired of Cork, and I want to get out, 

Och, hone! Barney McCue. 
For a new situation I'm looking about, 
Och, hone! Barney McCue. 
Don't lave me to wait, 
'Tis a terrible fate. 
If you send me the cash, 
I will come over straight — 
How can you be happy away from your mate ? 
Och hone ! Barney McCue. 

Barney. — 
Oh darlint stay home, I'm not wanting you 
here, 
Och, hone ! Judy McCue. 
I'm a judge of a coort, which is something 
to fear, 
Och, hone ! Judy McCue. 

It may look queer to you, 
But be jabers 'tis true. 
They call me yer Honor, 
Squire Barney McCue. 
And I' ve cash by the bushel, and nothing to do, 
Och, hone ! Judy McCue. 

I am free from the spade, and from feeding 
the cow, 
Och, hone ! Judy McCue. 
And from carrying swill to the pigs and the 
sow, 
Och, hone ! Judy McCue. 

Your cheek is so rough, 
And your hands are so tough, 
For the wife of a judge 
You're not polished enough, 
And they say that your neck, once so white 
as a buff, 
Och, hone ! Judy McCue. 

Judy. — 
Go long wid you, Barney, I know you don't 
mane, 
Och, hone ! Barney McCue, 
That ye' 11 never come back to your Judy 
again, 
Och, hone ! Barney McCue. 

Get the cash from the Boss, 
Sure he'll not fale the loss, 
By some ship that is lavin' 
Jist sind it across. 
Sind out for me Barney, and don't be so cross, 
Och, hone ! Barney McCue. 



44 



EIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND TEE WORLD OVER. 



The reign of Nial Frassagh, was dis- 
tinguished by some of those most re- 
markable showers. Silver fell in such 
amounts as to leave the banks no ex- 
cuse for suspending specie payment. A 
shower of wheat fell, to the relief of a 
people who were suffering from a famine, 
many of whom had died from actual 
starvation. Honey also fell greatly to 
the relief of the hungry, and the prac- 
tice of eating bread and honey became 
common in those days. 

The king was on his knees with seven 
bishops praying for relief, and was 
greatly rejoiced when food in large 
quantities fell from the clouds. Not 
such victuals as are required to tickle 
the palates of the rich and pampered 
Irish rulers of America, but still such as 
satisfied the people of the time, and pre- 
vented actual starvation. About this 
time strange omens and prognostications 
indicated that some direful calamity 
was approaching, and in the year A. 
D. 767, a fearful storm of thunder and 
lightning burst upon Ireland with a fury 
destructive and terrible. 

The " Fair of Clapping of Hands " 
was in progress, and the people were 
seized with horror. They resorted to 
prayer and fasting to avert a calamity, 
which all the signs seemed to point to, 
as liable at any moment to fall upon 
them. 

In the year of 199 a terrible storm 
occurred on the eve of St. Patrick's day, 
when one thousand and ten persons were 
killed on the coast of Clare. In the 
same year that enterprising people the 
Danes, made their first raid on Ireland. 
They were not expected ; in fact, they 
appeared so suddenly that even the king's 
officers mistook them for merchants. They 
not only corrected the mistake, but made 
it impossible for them to commit another, 
for they deprived them of their heads 
without loss of time. The pirates burn- 



ed and plundered shrines, destroyed the 
sacred relics, and committed the usual 
barbarities. The Irish about this time 
began to see the propriety of forming 
themselves into societies and organiza- 
tions of different kinds, a practice which 
they still adhere to. The most im- 
portant organization of this kind is in 
America, and is known as the " Ring," 
a name which is said to indicate that 
there is no end or limit to their ambi- 
tion, their hopes, or their desires. 

The ostensible object of the Irish- 
American Ring, which has its head- 
quarters in the city of New York, is to 
secure a rigid enforcement of the laws, an 
honest administration of public affairs, 
and protect the citizens from heavy tax- 
ation, and imposition in every form. 
Thoroughly organized and intent upon 
doing good, they have won the confidence 
and earnest support of such of their 
friends and relatives as they have been 
able to place in lucrative positions. Ora- 
tors have praised them, ministers of the 
gospel have prayed for them, and even 
the poets seek to do them honor. 

Air — " The Rhine, The Rhine," &c. 

The Ring, the Ring, the Irish Ring, 
Their virtue who can doubt, 
So let them still each office fill, 
And kick the Yankees out. 
Send every ship across the deep, 
And let come like flocking sheep, 
A song of praise to thee we sing, 
The Ring, the Ring, the Irish Ring. 

The Ring, the Ring, the Irish Ring, 
See ! how they live and thrive, _ 

While natives lax to pay the tax, 
Still struggle toil and strive ; 
Behold ! their wives in satins fine, 
Adorned with gems that flash and shine, 
Our hope, our pride, was everything 
The Ring, the Ring, the Irish Ring. 

The Ring, the Ring, the Irish Ring, 
Bless'd be the Isle that bore 
These noble men, and sent them there 
To bless Columbia's shore. 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



45 



An Irish judge, and alderman, 
To rule the proud American, 
Through all the laud their praises sing, 
The Ring, the Ring, Irish Ring, 

The Ring, the Ring, the Irish Ring, 

Let Germans drink their beer — 

With Irish rulers well they know 

No danger need they fear ; 

What though they chance to break the law, 

They're sure to find in it a flaw ; 

They never go to dread Sing sing, 

The Ring, the Ring, the Irish Ring. 

It is thus that the Irish people are 
immortalized, and their self-denial, their 
disenterested patriotism, and all their 
noble traits of character, handed down 
from generation to generation. The 
inroads of the Danes afflicted the Irish 
sorely. In the year A.D. 195, they 
began their work of plunder and de- 
struction. In 798 they ravaged Inuis- 
patrick, and from 806 to the year 830 
their attacks were frequent and disas- 
trous, for they murdered both clergy and 
laity, and plundered the shrines and 
churches without mercy. 

Even at that early day the churches 
possessed great wealth which they had 
collected from the pious people of Ire- 
land, who, when not engaged in war, 
gave much of their time to spiritual 
affairs. A tempting booty of precious 
stones, gold, and silver was offered by 
the churches to the savage invaders. 

We sometimes feel inclined to ask the 
question, why do the churches accumu- 
late these baubles, these shining tempta- 
tions, which, while they may attract and 
dazzle the crowd, in no way tend to 
purify the heart or elevate the soul of 
man, but on the contrary, serve to excite 
cupidity, draw his mind away from pnrer 
subjects, aud at the same time, engross 
to some extent the attention of the cler- 
gy, a class whom we are taught to believe 
should devote themselves solely and ex- 
clusively to the salvation of souls, and 



who should never allow their minds to 
wander amongst the vain aud transitory 
things of this wurld. Stately churches, 
with rich carpetings, velvet cushions, aud 
displays of gold aud silver, may be ne- 
cessary. If they are, what a mistake the 
Saviour made when he went about heal- 
ing the sick and relieving the afflicted, 
followed by a few fishermen aud poor 
mechanics. Such followers are seldom 
sought after now. It is the man who 
wants his soul saved and can afford to 
pay for it, who can roll to church in a 
splendid carriage, and who leaves, while 
he is mumbling his prayers in church, 
his coachman outside to take care of his 
horses and save his soul at the same 
time, if be can, that makes the most 
desirable follower. 

Turgesius established himself in Ire- 
land as king of the Vikings, iu A.D. 
830, residing in Armagh. Had the Irish 
chieftains combined their forces, they 
could easily have driven them out, but 
they could not act together, even against 
a Norwegian invader, and they were sub- 
jected to wrongs and indignities more dis- 
tressing than those endured by St. Pat- 
rick when he was a keeper of swine in 
Antrim. The villages were placed under 
a Danish captain, aud each family was 
compelled to support a Danish soldier, 
who often ruled the household most 
cruelly, wasting the food in a shameful 
manner, when the children were starving, 
never heeding their moans aud cries, 
which went like daggers to the hearts 
of their agonized parents. All education 
was prohibited. Books, manuscripts, and 
works of arts were destroyed. The his- 
torians, bards, and poets, were imprison- 
ed, driven to the monastries, or killed. 
Martial sports were interdicted under 
heavy penalties, including all ranks, from 
the highest to the lowest, and the nobles 
and princes were not allowed to wear 
any clothing but such as was cast off by 



46 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



the Danes, who treated the inhabitants 
as slaves. 

The Irish chieftains continued to 
wrangle, but the clergy did not cease to 
pray. 

In the year AD. 831, Nial Caille 
met and defeated the enemy, but while 
engaged in the effort to expel them, 
Felim, king of Cashel, marched into Lein- 
ster and plundered all except the Danes, 
against whom his arms should have been 
directed. 

In the year A. D. 684, Meloughlin 
met their forces in Skreen and defeated 
them, as well as at Kildare. At last 
the Danes divided and waged war upon 
each other — the Dubh Galls and the 
Finn Galls, or the White Gentiles and 
the Black Gentiles ; the former con- 
quered, having placed themselves under 
the tutelage of St. Patrick, who ap- 
pears to have still exercised an influence 
over Irish affa-irs, though he had been 
long dead and buried. 

The contest between Flann and Cor- 
mac was one of some interest. Cormac 
felt that his end was approaching, and 
made arrangements accordingly. He 
was not mistaken. In the battle which 
ensued, his horse slipped in the blood 
of six thousand Munster men who had 
been slain, and falling upon Cormac, 
broke his back and neck ; and being 
old, and his constitution much shattered 
by exposure and hardship, he did not 
survive the injuries. The Rock of Cas- 
hel and the ruins of a chapel, still serve 
to perpetuate the memory of Cormac. 

At last there came a lull in the car- 
nage, and the men of Erinu had a short 
season of repose ; but in the year A. D. 
913, new fleets arrived, and new strug- 
gles commenced, which generally termi- 
nated in favor of the Irish, who seemed 
to have wakened up to a sense of the 
duty which they owed to their country 
and to themselves. 



Muircheartach appeared during these 
struggles, and soon placed himself at the 
head of the Irish forces. He originated 
the idea of " Swinging around the cir- 
cle," and with a thousand heroes made 
the circuit of Ireland, picking up Danish 
Kings by the way. He secured four, at 
least ; and taking them home with him 
feasted them five months. He was not 
a cannibal, nor were the Irish people in 
the habit of eating their enemies, other- 
wise we should conclude that the feeding 
and feasting of those who had done them 
so many wrongs was simply a fattening 
process, resorted to to put them in good 
order for butchering ; as it is, we cannot 
explain the conduct of Muircheartach. 
He was a great hero, but like all the 
other heroes, he died. 

The writer of history is apt to become 
impressed with the transient and fleeting 
character of all earthly things. Men, 
the greatest of them, pass away, and 
the grandest of their work moulder into 
dust. The historian fully realizes this 
solemn truth ; hence his thoughtful brow, 
his pallid cheek, and the air of gloom 
and sorrow which attends him. 

Murder, massacre, robbery, and ban- 
ishment, all figure conspicuously in the 
early history of Ireland, with prodigies, 
portents, and fearful storms. 

The interminable Dane still kept the 
country in commotion. They held the 
sea coast, apparently anxious to keep in 
communication with their vessels. They 
were ruled by Sitric, son of that Turge- 
sius of whom we have spoken. He was 
a desperate and cruel king, but had a 
charming sister, with whom Callaghan 
was desperately in love. The Callag- 
hans and O'Callaghans were, and still 
are to this day, susceptible to the tender 
passion. Sitric consented that his sister 
should marry the Irishman, but he never 
intended to carry out his promise. He 
invited the Irish King to visit him, and 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



47 



he being in love was of course easily im- 
posed upon. Sitric had married an 
Irishwoman, and she undertook to save 
Callaghan. She sent him word of the 
intended treachery of Sitric ; but Cal- 
laghan was too far on the road, and the 
wily Dane had placed armed men so as 
to cut off his retreat. It seems to be 
the fate of Irishmen to be continually 
getting into places from which there is 
no escape except to fight out. If he 
goes to a wake or fair, he seldom gets 
away without a struggle — and it gener- 
ally happens when he enters a drinking- 
saloon that the enemy form in his rear 
so as to cut off his retreat, thus com- 
pelling him to knock down the barten- 
der, break the glasses, kick over the 
chairs, tables, and bottles, and bruise 
anybody who happens to be present at 
the time. 

Callaghan was taken by the Danes, 
and his people, enraged at the treachery 
of Sitric, at once took steps to punish 
him, and rescue their king. The Irish 
mustered all their forces, and even or- 
ganized a fleet at Armagh. They found 
that the prisoner had been removed to 
the ships, but the Irish fleet arriving most 
opportunely, and attacking the Danish 
ship, a desperate struggle took place. 
One Fingal disposed of Sitric by throw- 
ing his arms around his neck, and jump- 
into the sea. A number of Irish lead- 
ers followed his example, and several of 
the Danish captains were drowned, each 
in the embrace of an Irishman. The 
Irish gained a complete victory. 

In the year A.D. 948 the Danes were 
converted to Christianity, but continued 
to burn churches, plunder shrines, and at 
Slane they burned a belfry filled with 
pious people who had sought safety 
there. The Irish had long been Chris- 
tians ; but, nevertheless, domestic wars 



continued, blood was shed freely, and 
outrage upon outrage was committed, 
in spite of their piety and the teachings 
of St. Patrick. 

The war waged by Mahoun and Briau 
was bloody and . vindictive. Brian 
fought until his army was reduced to 
fifteen veterans. These were organized 
into regiments, brigades, and army corps, 
who were commanded by officers selected 
from the " State National Guard," much 
to the disgust of the veterans of the lat- 
ter organization. 

Mahoun sent for Brian, matters were 
fully discussed, and the tribes consulted, 
who voted for war. The Danes were 
roused, and fought desperately. They 
attacked Dal Cais, and were assisted 
by a number of Irish princes with their 
followers. They were defeated and mas- 
sacred without mercy. Limerick fell 
into hands of the victors, with gold, silk- 
clad women, saddles, girls, household 
furniture, and boys. The boys were soon 
disposed of. They were divided into 
two classes, such as were fit for war and 
such as were fit for slaves. The former 
were butchered without mercy, and the 
latter reduced to most abject slavery by 
the men who had been sometime before, 
happily and thoroughly converted to 
Christianity. The reader is left to divine 
the fate of the women and the girls 
mentioned among the spoils in the hands 
of this pious people, and left. 

Battles and single combats, victories 
and defeats, robbery and ravishment, 
Irishmen and Danes, Kings and Vikings. 
Such are the materials fit to be worked 
up in a grand transformation scene. The 
defeat of Brian's army followed. Sitric's 
wife was the sister of Briau ; she sympa- 
thized with the Irish, and her husband 
struck her and knocked out one of her 
teeth. 



48 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



CHAPTER IX. 



Irish Clans— Irish Government— The Science of 
Financiering— The Irish Laborer— His Tran- 
quillity—Ode to the Irish Laborer— The Dark 
Ages— The Light of Irish Learning— Its effect 
on Englishmen— Domestic Wars— Donough— 
The Meloughlins— O'Brian— Roderic O'Con- 
nor— 0' Brian Frightened by a Mouse— His 
Sickness— The Hy-Nials and Murtough— Fre- 
quent Murders— Coroners not mentioned— An 
American Inquest— A Blessing to the Citizen 
—Death deprived of its Terrors— Turlough 
O'Conner— Dermod Mac Murrough— Ancient 
Habitations —Diet— Ornaments— Distribution 
of Food— Drinking Cup— Whiskey (Potheen) 
—Butter — Cheese— Music— Dress — Animals 
—The Irish Elephant. 

The people of Ireland at an early day 
were divided into numerous tribes or 
clans, as the reader has already learned 
from the preceding pages. Whether this 
arrangement was made under the im- 
pression that the Irish could be better 
controlled and more easily governed in 
small bodies, or to accommodate a large 
number always found among the people 
of that nation, intent upon holding posi- 
tions of power and influence, does not 
appear, though the latter seems to be 
the most reasonable theory, for even at 
this day we find them everywhere am- 
bitious to rule, and claiming that they 
of all men are the ones who should be 
selected to govern mankind and control 
their destiny, a claim which has never 
been fully allowed and acted upon in any 
country but the United States. 

The Americans looking upon Repub- 
lican government as a problem not yet 
solved, felt that in solving it they need- 
ed the aid of a wise, discreet and expe- 
rienced people, and therefore that appeal 
to the Irish nation, which has brought so 
many noble sons of Erinn to their shores. 
It has been objected that the Irish 
have not been successful in governing 
themselves, and that even now they are 
ruled by foreigners. But what of that ? 
Are most excellent systems to be ignored 
and laid aside, simply because difficulties 



occur when an attempt is made to put 
them into practice ? Not at all. Under 
such a rule even " universology " would 
fail to unite mankind into one common 
brotherhood with one language, one diet, 
one style of dress, and with but one 
great object to strive for, and that, uni- 
versal purity and happiness. 

We have in our mind at present bril- 
liant financiers, with their elbows ex- 
posed, their clothing threadbare, and in 
shocking bad hats, who never accumu- 
lated a dollar in their lives, and who, 
nevertheless, possess the most splendid 
theories on the subject of finance ; men 
who can tell you of a plan for accumu- 
lating vast wealth in an incredible short 
space of time, or give you a banking 
system, which, in a few months, would 
make a common article of paper worth 
more than the purest gold, or tell you 
just how the national debt might be 
paid without taxation, but by an ar- 
rangement in which each man who in- 
vested would draw an opera-house, and 
lire surrounded by plenty for the rest 
of his days. 

These born financiers fail to get rich. 
As a general rule, they get but little 
money, and that they spend for lottery 
tickets ; but should this prompt us to 
discard schemes, theories, and plans 
which make man happy, even whilst he 
is listening to them ? for he feels all the 
time that if he does not get very rich 
and have a city home, and a country 
seat, and a steam yacht, fast trotters, 
thoroughbred dogs, champagne in his 
cellars, and Partagas cigars in the closet, 
he might have them, if he wished being 
master of a plan, which he is only to 
put into practice to secure these com- 
forts. In short, he must only be able 
to sell that which he does not own, and 
buy that which he cannot pay for (a feat 
every day accomplished), and wealth is 
sure to follow. 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



49 



The Irish, or that portion of them 
who are not engaged in politics, have 
become so skillful as financiers as to 
be able to realize large amounts on the 
smallest of investments. Tens of thou- 
sands draw subsistence for themselves 
and their families from the public treas- 
ury, upon the simple idea that they are 
laboriug for the public. It is not the 
intention of the authorities of New York 
to exact anything like toil from the class 
of people referred to; but to give the 
city a busy, thrifty air, and for the pur- 
pose of ornament, select companies of 
Irishmen are statioued in different parts 
of the city, on the Boulevards along the 
streets, and particularly in the parks, 
who, with great skill, go through the 
evolutions and manoeuvres of ordinary 
laborers. When night sets in, they go 
to political meetings, where the orators 
talk of the horny hand, the sweated 
brow, and the honest heart of the poor 
laborer. Their hearts are honest, we 
know, but who ever heard of city labor- 
ers working themselves into a sweat. 
The city authorities would not permit it. 
They have a dreamy, meditative way of 
working which throws an air of delicious 
drowsiness all around, pleasant to the 
tax-payers, and profitable to the public. 
Anything which soothes and lulls the 
people into a state of comfortable repose, 
the public can afford to pay for ; and 
surely nothing tends more to produce 
this effect, than the slumbering groups 
of Irishmen daily seen in the neighbor- 
hood of the public works — and, but for 
the noisy vehicles, that go rattling 
through the park, one could almost fancy 
it 'the dwelling place of Somnus. No 
murderous outbreaks, riots, or revolu- 
tions can occur so long as this drowsy 
state of affairs continues. So we see 
that these men are paid to preserve 
tranquillity and peace in the community, 
rather than for any actual labor they 



perform. An Englishman (and it is 
well known that Britons never let an 
opportunity pass to laud the Irish), thus 
expresses his admiration : 

How doth the busy Irishman 
Improve each shining hour, 
While all around are traces of 
His industry and power. 

See how he leans upon his spade, 
Absorbed in earnest thought, 
For he to husband well his strength, 
In early youth was taught. 

Why should he tax his manly frame — 
Even the overseer 
Remembers well he has a vote, 
And owns a wholesome fear. 

Offend him, and he might at last 
Their schemes and projects foil. 
Year after year he draws his pay, 
And slumbers o'er his toil. 

He slowly moves his rake, and swings 
His pick with easy sweep, 
Seeming to be not wide awake, 
And yet not sound asleep. 

His pipe that gift of Providence 
To solace want and care, 
A never-failing comfort is 
At labor, wake, or fair. 

We gazed upon the dreamy scene, 
And of its beauties wrote, 
And could not help but realize 
The power of a vote. 

The blessings secured to mankind by 
Irish wisdom, purity, and statesmanship, 
are not confined to the present day, nor 
to the fortunate people of the United 
States. A black and almost impenetra- 
ble cloud of ignorance and barbarism 
had settled down upon Europe, a period 
of gloom, which we are accustomed to 
call the " Dark Ages," occurred when it 
seemed as though the light of religion 
was to be extinguished forever, and the 
last vestige of civilization swept away. 
That part of the community which we 
now call the people, were the depend- 
ants, and the abject slaves of a few 



50 



EIBERN1A; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



savage chieftains, who seemed to delight 
in increasing the weight of their burdens, 
and in reducing them to a condition of 
beastly servitude. It was a long and 
dreary night, but morning came at last. 
The light which had been carefully treas- 
ured and preserved in Ireland, began to 
attract attention, and a suffering world 
turned towards it with a feeling of in- 
tense relief and gratitude. A company 
of monks settled in Glastenbury early 
in the tenth century, where they taught 
school. St. Dunstan became popular 
with the youth, for he was a skillful 
musician, and even in his day music and 
the dance had their fascinations for the 
young ; but St. Dunstan was even more 
than a musician — he was a scholar, and 
by reclaiming the savage inhabitants and 
teaching Englishmen once more to seek 
knowledge, and cultivate learning and 
the fine arts, he paved the way for them 
to become, in time, a people of consider- 
able prominence. 

That the English are able at this time 
to exert some influence over the affairs 
of their immediate neighbors, cannot be 
denied ; and it is equally certain, that for 
their ability to do so they are indebted 
to Ireland. This fact forms but one 
small item in a long account which 
Englishmen owe to Ireland, a debt which 
they will never be able to pay, but which 
ought to secure for Ireland their ever- 
lasting gratitude. 

War and bloodshed continued even 
while Irish missionaries were blessing 
foreign nations. Donough succeeded his 
father, and after many struggles was 
defeated. When he went to Rome he 
had murdered his brother, but " died 
under the Victory of Penance, in the mon- 
astery of Stephen the Martyr." About 
this time the McLoughlins, of Aileach, 
figured conspicuously in Irish affaire. 
O'Brien also worked himself into notice 
by invading and plundering the kingdom 



of Roderic O'Connor, king of Connaught 
driving him out. 

The account of O'Brien's death is curi- 
ous. The head of Connor O'Melaghlin, 
King of Meath, was taken from the church 
of Clonmacnois, and brought to Thomond 
by his order. When O'Brien took the 
head in his hand, a mouse ran out, caus- 
ing the king a terrible shock. So great 
was his fear, that he fell sick of a sore 
disease. This happened on the night 
of Good Friday, and on Easter Sunday 
the head was restored with two rings of 
gold, but it was too late. The king lin- 
gered in bad health until the year 1086, 
when he died. He was called modest, 
but why he was called so, we are unable 
to state. To acquire such a title among 
a people whose modesty has been for ages 
the admiration of mankind, was certainly 
a triumph. 

In 1095, a fearful pestilence swept 
over Europe, carrying off one-fourth of 
the men of Ireland. This fearful calam- 
ity was preceded by severe winters ; but 
the plague is supposed to have had a 
different cause. 

In the year 1096, the festival of St. 
John the Baptist fell on Friday — an 
event which filled the hearts of all with 
consternation, and brought death to 
thousands. A general abstinence from 
Wednesday to Sunday was enjoined, and 
by an active and persevering penance, 
the people of Ireland were saved from 
total destruction. 

The year 1103 was a bloody one. 
Murder followed murder, just as they 
do in our day, particularly in American 
cities, and the murderers escaped con- 
viction in almost every instance, just as 
they do now. It is curious, that in all 
these accounts of murder and of occur- 
rences, which must have made dead bo- 
dies plenty, we hear nothing of " coro- 
ners." That the office existed at an 
ancient date, we have no doubt. The 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



51 



Hibernian coroners of New York dis- 
play a skill, an energy, and a thrift, 
which a few years of experience could 
never have given them. Their conduct 
in the office in question, crowned, as it 
is, by a most triumphant success, is 
proof that they are able to avail them- 
selves of knowledge and learning re- 
lating to the duties of their position, 
which it must have taken ages to accu- 
mulate. A system which enables a cor- 
oner to draw from the public treasury 
hundreds of dollars to pay the expenses 
of an inquest held over the Ibody of a 
dead infant, found in an ash-barrel, could 
never have reached perfection in one 
generation. Under the system, if it 
were at all necessary, one corpse in cool 
weather, properly taken care of, could 
be made to answer for twenty or thirty 
inquests ; but the coroner of our day, 
fortunately, is driven to no such expedi- 
ents ; a daily supply of fresh bodies oc- 
cupies his time, gladdens his heart, and 
steadily improves his fortune. 

It is a most consoling thought, and 
one which deprives death of many of its 
objectionable features, that the bodies 
of such of us as die in America, are 
likely to be made the subject of learned 
discussion and earnest investigation. A 
smiling coroner, twelve amiable Irish- 
men, a group of intelligent witnesses, 
the air carefully tempered with tobacco 
smoke, a skillful surgeon knife in hand, 
accommodating by-standers, one's heart 
and lnngs in a wash-bowl, and his stom- 
ach and intestines carefully laid away 
for a chemical analysis — with the 
gloom of death thus illuminated by the 
light of science, the tears of weeping 
friends must cease to flow, and sorrow 
will give way to a feeling of gratitude for 
the government which secures to its hum- 
blest citizen such inestimable blessings. 

Among the abuses of the time, the 
habit which the Irish had of abandon- 



ing their lawful wives, and of marrying 
within the degrees of consanguinity, are 
mentioned. It is also claimed that wives 
were exchanged by them, but this was 
a common custom in Scotland and 
England, and the Irish, in this respect, 
were simply conforming to the ideas and 
manners of the times ; furthermore, 
these things took place long before they 
had learned that it was more profitable 
to retain a wife, relying upon their 
ability to correct, by the infliction of 
proper chastisement, any weakness or 
defect, which might mar or disfigure her 
character, than to attempt to get a bet- 
ter one by exchange. 

In the year 1129, the Church of Clen- 
macuois was robbed, among other things, 
of a model of King Solomon's temple, 
presented by the King of Meath. The 
clergy prayed continually for informa- 
tion in regard to the robber, who was 
at last discovered. He proved to be a 
Dane, who had made repeated attempts 
to leave the island, but the vessels could 
get no wind while he was on board, 
though they sailed without difficulty after 
the robber was hung. 

Turlough O'Conor was an active, en- 
ergetic king. He put out the eyes of 
one of his sons and imprisoned another, 
though the clergy protested. The 
crimes and outrages of the age culmina- 
ted in one deed of horror. The Breinemeu 
stript O'Daly, the poet, of his clothes ; 
and all Ireland, awe-stricken and aghast, 
gazed upon the dismantled favorite of 
the gods with dismay. 

Dermod MacMurrough, King of Lein- 
ster, carried off the Abbess of Kildare, 
killing one hundred and seventy of the 
people and two nobles, putting out the 
eyes of another, and blinding seventeen 
subordinate captains. He made himself 
infamous by helping to fix the Euglish 
yoke upon the Irish people. The story 
of his reign is one of blood, rapine, and 



52 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



treachery. The closing exploit of his 
life was the murder of neighboring chief- 
tains in violation of the most solemn 
pledges. 

The habitations of the ancient Irish 
have mostly passed away. A log-house 
was found in the county of Donegal, 
eleven feet under ground, in 1833. 
It was much after the style of the 
houses now used in the western part of 
the United States ; in fact, the resem- 
blance is so close, as to bring at least 
some of the learned to the conclusion 
that the style of architecture used in 
Western America, was originally im- 
ported from Ireland. But when and 
how ? We are able, after many years 
A patient investigation, to solve the 
mystery. St. Brendan imparted it to 
the old man met by him on the banks 
of the Ohio, and from this circumstance 
have sprung some of the greatest men 
that ever lived in any country — such as 
David Crockett, Samuel Houston, Dan- 
iel Boone, and others not mentioned, 
because they are alive — all owe their 
greatness, in some measure, to the log 
cabin style of architecture. 

Animal remains are found, which 
clearly indicate that the ancient Irishmau 
was in the habit of eating the ox and 
deer, together with goats and sheep — 
and implements of cookery remain, with 
the knife, and stones, that still wear the 
marks of fire, showing that they have 
once been used as fire-places. 

The Irish in America display, in lo- 
cating their dwellings, a taste inherited 
from their ancestors. Rocks and waste 
ground are their favorite abiding places, 
from which they emerge from time to 
time, in vast armies, either to cast their 
votes, join in a procession, engage in a 
riot, or attend the funeral of a deceased 
countryman. 

We have referred to the food of the 
ancient Irish, heretofore : each member 



of a family received his portion accord- 
ing to rules, which were rigidly enforced. 
The Saoi of literature and the king 
shared alike, and their portion was a 
prime steak. Cooks and trumpeters 
were liberally supplied with cheering 
mead, their occupations requiring (as it 
was supposed), that they should be 
stimulated and encouraged. The his- 
torian received a crooked bone, the 
hunter a pig's shoulder, and in fact each 
person had his special portion assigned 
to him, according to his rank and office. 

The animals butchered for food were 
taken to the smith, who knocked them 
down with a hammer. The smith was 
an important person in olden times ; in 
the " Odyssey " he was known as the "ar- 
morer,'' and ranked with the bard and 
physician. 

Benches were used as seats, and the 
food was passed around to the guests on 
the spit upon which it was cooked, a cir- 
cumstance which verifies the old adage 
that " Fingers were made before forks." 
In regard to the use of fish, the Fenians 
were especially favored, for we read that 
no man dared take a salmon, dead or 
alive, unless he was in the Fenian ranks, 
a custom not quietly assented to by 
others, for it brought about many battles. 

Specimens of drinking vessels still ex- 
ist, many of which are drinking horns 
with handsome handles. The expression 
" taking a horn," is of Irish origin, the 
practice of "taking a horn," is still pop- 
ular among the Irish, who are devoted 
to the traditions and customs of their an- 
cestors. There was a time when nearly 
all the cups in Ireland were made of 
silver — nearly a thousand years later 
such cups were used. They are not now 
in general use, among the Irish, owing 
to the fact probably that the Danes car- 
ried away most of them. 

The origin of whiskey is rapt in un- 
certainty. We learn that chieftains sent 



HIBERNIA ; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD VER. 



53 



it to one another as an acceptable present, 
and on one occasion, at least, the recipi- 
ent was informed, that if he would drink 
it, it would help "to digest all raw 
humours, expell wynde, and keep his in- 
ward parte warm all the day after." 

Butter was in common use in Ireland. 
A lump was found twelve feet deep in 
the county of Antrim, rolled in a coarse 
cloth. The marks of the fingers and 
thumb of the ancient dame, who pressed 
it into shape, are still visible ; who knows 
but this very woman was the wife of 
Milcho, the master and owner of St. 
Patrick. 

Cheese was made and used by the 
ancient Irish, and wax candles were 
used by the members of the royal family, 
at a time when the only candles used in 
Britain were made by plastering fat 
around a stick, which was stuck upright — 
hence the name candlestick. 

Chess was a favorite game with the 
Irish long before their conversion to 
Christianity. The figures must have 
been made on a large scale, for we read 
of a chieftain, who, enraged at a mes- 
senger for telling a lie, knocked out his 
brains with a chessman. 

We have heretofore referred to the 
fondness of the Irish for music, and their 
peculiar taste leading them to select the 
jig in preference to any other style. 

The harp was the national instrument, 
and harpers formed a numerous and 
favorite class, from which the favored 
companions of kings and nobles were 
often selected. They have but little 
power or influence in Ireland at this 
time, thougli in America "the Harpers" 
have made themselves prominent, and 
won fame and renown. 

From time to time specimens of the 
dress of ancient times have been found, 
generally made of deer skin or leather ; 
also boots and shoes. It does not appear 
that India Rubber overshoes were worn 



at the time referred to, and the gaiters 
worn by the women of the present time 
differ somewhat from those worn one 
thousand years ago in Ireland. 

The ancient Irish were fond of gay 
colors, saffron being the favorite hue, 
and wore a much more striking costume 
than the Irish of to-day. 

Ireland once abounded in extensive 
forests, which disappeared before the re- 
lentless spirit of the invader, who found 
it dangerous to allow the natives such 
retreats and hiding-places as the woods 
afforded. Among the animals existing 
in Ireland at the different ages of the 
world, are the brown bear, the wolf, the 
elk, the red deer, the horse, and the ele- 
phant. England still maintains one, but 
the largest Irish elephant in the world is 
now in America, and kept to amuse 
and instruct the people of the United 
States. 

There are but few natives who have 
not seen this wonder of the animal crea- 
tion. It will be kept and supported by 
the people, though the expense be enor- 
mous ; for it has become a great pet with 
the politicians, whom the people favor on 
all occasions. 

The following lines, which seem in 
some way to refer to the origin of man, 
have been carefully studied by the learn- 
ed, but without success. The name of the 
author, his object in composing them, 
and their meanings, remain a profound 
mystery. 

Oh, I'm a gay old baboon ! 

Though dressed up like a man 

I remember when through wood and glen 

In a suit of hair 1 ran . 

No saddening thoughts were mine, 

Of sickness and the grave ; 

Nor cared I for the world to come, 

For I had no soul to save. 

Oh, I'm a gay old baboon ! 

With many a funny quirk, 

And many a nod and knowing wink» 

And many a smile and smirk 



54 



HIBERNIA ; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD YER. 



Men tell me a funny tale, 
How into a man I grew ; 
But I am a rollicking old baboon, 
And they are all monkeys too. 

Oh, I'm a gay old baboon ! 

And a look of dread they steal 

When they hear my words ; for they greatly 

fear 
That the truth I will reveal. 
But I long for my monkey days, 
And the shady forests, where 
I could twine my tail 'round a waving bough 
And swing in the balmy air. 

Oh, I'm a gay old baboon ! 

And I never deal in stocks ; 

But I gambol among the valleys green, 

And revel among the rocks. 

Nor heed I the price of gold, 

I have no financial cares. 

I'm a jolly, well-bred old baboon, 

And I shun the Bulls and Bears. 

Oh, I'm a gay old baboon ! 

And my cocoa-nut I'll eat, 

For I've sense enough to crack the shell, 

And get at the luscious meat. 

No questions need I ask, 

For what does a monkey care, 

When he cracks the nut and takes his meal, 

About how the milk got there. 

Oh, I'm a gay old baboon ! 

And I pity fallen man, 

Once he was a monkey, just like me, 

But out of the woods he ran ; 

And he learned to read and write, 

And he travels upon a rail ; 

But he lost his coat of glossy hair, 

And alas ! he lost his tail. 

Oh, I'm a gay old baboon ! 

No bridges build for me, 

For monkeys, you know, by joining tails, 

Can swing from tree to tree, 

And so do we cross a stream, 

Each clinging to the other, 

Like men, in such affairs, we give 

Aid to a needy brother. 

Oh, I'm a gay old baboon ! 

And men, proud and elated, 

Are nothing but monkeys, every one, 

Who have degenerated. 

So off to the woods I'll go, 

On ease and pleasure bent, 

Before I am made an editor, 

Or a railroad president. 



CHAPTER X. 

The Antiquity of Ireland— The worthless ness 
of American Inventions without Irish Industry 
— Parthalon and his Ark— The Song of Parth- 
alon — Learning-^Busy Americans— No time 
to be domestic or social — No time to eat — The 
Schools of America — Farewell to the Bible — 
The Song of the School-Bell— American Ora- 
tory—The Song of the Eagle— The familiar 
Face disfigured— A Nose bitten oft— The Prac- 
tice still followed — Strongbow — Blood and 
Massacre — Marriage of Strongbow to Eva — A 
Fashionable Wedding— A Trip -to Dublin— 
Death of Dermod. 

Who can doubt the antiquity of Ire- 
land ? Not the reader of the preceding 
pages. As we proceed with our task we 
gain confidence. The Garden of Eden 
was located in Central Africa, and the 
first Irishman lived somewhere in the 
neighborhood, and no doubt learned the 
art of landscape gardening from Adam. 
Hence the propriety of employing them 
to beautify parks and public grounds. 
A Yankee may be able to manufacture 
a good article of nutmegs, but he can- 
not cultivate them. He may be able 
to make a locomotive, but he cannot, or 
will not, grade the road, or lay the 
track — and of what use is the locomo- 
tive without the road ? At every step 
we find proof of the Irishman's useful- 
ness, and the sagacity of the Americans 
in intrusting to his skill and managa- 
ment, their public and private affairs. 

Parthalon was Noah, and had an ark 
of his own. He was very fortunate in 
the navigation of his vessel ; for we do 
not find that he ever got aground or 
struck a snag — and this settles one ques- 
tion in regard to his pilot. We are sure 
he did not come from the Mississippi 
River. 

We feel confirmed in the opinion that 
Parthalon and Noah are indeutical, by 
the fact that the following song was sung 
by the great navigator, to the air of" A 
Life on the Ocean Wave," and was 
popular with the generation that lived 



HIBERNIA ; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD VER. 



55 



jnst after the flood. It was known in 
those days as 

THE SONG OF PARTHALON. 
The rain in torrents fell, 

And the clouds were low and dark. ; 
So I took the beasts and the birds, 

And I went on board the ark ; 
And I took my sons along ; 
They were Barney, Tim, and Pat — 
. "Och, murther !" what a storm ; 
But we did not care for that. 
I sing of the gay old ark ; 

She rode the shower through, 

With the monkeys and the birds, 

The bear and the kangaroo. 

Garoo, garoo ; 

The bear and the kangaroo. 

Garoo, garoo ; 

The bear and the kangaroo. 

We crossed the Irish sea 

And we neared the British shore ; 
But the lion being drowned, 

When he saw us did not roar ; 
And we picked a Briton up, 

Looking wretched and forlorn. 
He had floated a month or more, 

With a life-preserver on. 

I sing, etc. 

We drifted over France 

And to Germany we went, 
With the flood a thousand fathoms 

Deep above the continent. 
We anchored there to fish, 

And we angled at our ease ; 
And caught a keg of lager beer, 

A pipe and a sweitzer cheese, 

I sing, etc. 

We had a fearful hurricane, 

And Barney lost his hat ; 
But we did not waste our time 

On it, or stop at Arrarat. 
To Asia then we rode, 

Before the gale we flew, 
And saw a half-drowned Chinaman, 

And savod him by the queue. 

I sing, etc. 

Day after day we kept our course — 
The breeze blew fresh and fair — 

And soon we reached America, 
And quickly anchored there. 

And there we caught the queerest fish 
We ever yet had seen ; 



In bell-crowned hat and swallow-tail, 
Long, lantern-jawed, and lean. 
I sing, etc. 

The clouds blew off, the sun came out, 

The waters did subside — 
Our vessel to the steeple of 

A meeting-house we tied ; 
Nor did we sigh for Erin green, 

For Dublin, or for Cork, 
But settled down and built a town, 
And christened it New York. 
I sing of the gay old ark. 

She rode the shower through, 

With the monkeys and the birds, 

The bear and the kangaroo. 

Garoo, garoo ; 
The bear and the kangaroo. 

Garoo, garoo ; 
The bear and the kangaroo. 

We like .to talk about Parthalon's 
ark. Settled and established facts call 
for neither investigation nor discussion. 
It is only matters that are doubtful, 
obscure, and ancient, that are worthy 
of the attention of the lovers of history. 

The learned men of Ireland dispelled 
the gloom of the dark ages, and intro- 
duced letters and refinement into the 
countries o£ Europe. The Irish have 
long furnished teachers for the rest of 
mankind. The Americans are busy, and, 
excepting the people of the State of 
Connecticut, have no time to teach school. 
They are too much engaged all day to 
notice their own children. At night they 
are, of course, weary and anxious, and 
cannot be disturbed by their little ones. 
In the morning they must hurry to busi- 
ness. The father finds it impossible to 
devote a moment to his little girl or boy, 
who watch him with tearful eyes as he 
rushes out of the house, hat in hand, 
aud wonder why he never gives them a 
smile, a few kind words, or a few mo- 
ments of his society. Unhappy orphans ? 
they cannot realize that life is an earnest 
struggle and that he has no time. His 
wife is equally busy ; society makes ex- 
haustive demands upon her. 



56 



EIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



How fortunate that the little ones, thus 
deprived of the care and protection of 
their natural guardians, have some one 
to look to. Ireland comes again to the 
rescue. The rising generation in the 
United States are in charge of that gen- 
erous race, which seems not only to have 
adopted the country, but the children 
of the country. The same people who 
broke in upon the dark ages with the 
light of learning, have broken in upon 
the Americans, and under such auspices 
are their children to be educated. 

If we have in the preceding pages in- 
timated that the Irish people have ever 
committed the crime of inconsistency, we 
wish here to retract, and declare our 
decided approbation of all they have 
done in Ireland or in America ; and this 
is uttered with no desire or intention 
to secure the support of that people for 
office ; for the writer of this volume is 
not a candidate, and, furthermore, he 
knows full well he could not be elected 
if he was, for he is a native of America, 
outside of the " Ring," nor has he won 
for himself to any great extent the es- 
teem and friendship of that influential 
class known as " Repeaters." How then 
could he expect to be trusted or honored ? 

The public schools have been a matter 
of investigation, discussion, and anxiety 
in America for many years, during which 
time much truth has been elicited, and, 
we may add, a system discovered as near 
perfection as anythiug human can be. 

Catholic teachers take charge of the 
Protestant children left in the schools, 
and manage and control the institutions 
which they despise. The cause of reli- 
gion demands a division of the school 
fund, and liberal appropriations out of 
the public treasury, for sectarian pur- 
poses, and they ask more. The Bible is 
read to the little ones, and they say it 
must be relinquished, and the natives 
seem half inclined to put in a mild pro- 



test ; but the adopted fellow-citizens ask 
it, and duty calls upon all to submit — so 
not without sorrow, we say : 

Farewell ! with all my failings, 

I have scanned thy pages o'er, 
When repentance overtook me, 

Or affliction pressed me sore. 
In my youth my mother taught me, 

I thy wisdom should revere, 
E'en the strangers who despise thee, 

Will forgive a passing tear. 

Farewell ! sad are the visions 

Hovering in my sight to-day, 
Spirits of the loved who vanished, 

Faded from the light away. 
And the form of her who hore me, 

Seems to linger in my sight, 
And the whispers of the Bible, 

And the battle for the right. 

Farewell ! I cannot lean on thee 

When I am growing old, 
Or look to thee for comfort 

When the world seems dark and cold. 
I must yield thee, so they tell me, 

For the good of all the land, 
But my blood flows quick with anger 

When I think what they demand. 

This is the plan of American educa- 
tion fast coming into practice, and though 
the terms are thought by some to be se- 
vere, any prudent person will yield at 
once ; for it would be dangerous to op- 
pose or even question them. What if 
the remnant of the Irish people still left 
in Ireland should refuse to emigrate to 
America 1 What if those who are now 
in America should refuse to take further 
part in public affairs 1 What if they 
should gather their little ones around 
them, and taking their pigs, their goats, 
and household goods, depart from the 
land ? Think ! what a calamity this 
would be. Why, then, should we wran- 
gle over trifles ? They have the local 
governmeuts, the revenues, and the ballot- 
box. In all these things the Americans 
have humbly and quietly submitted — 
why not throw in the schools ? 

As an American, writing a candid 



EIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



51 



and impartial history of the Irish na- 
tions, we say : " Let there be no dissen- 
sion among us," but give them what they 
ask. We think we know the feeling of 
the people of the United States on this 
subject, and we think they intend not 
only to submit, but they are willing that 
our adopted fellow-citizens should hold 
the children of the land as hostages to 
secure a full and faithful performance of 
that which they so justly and generously 
require of them. Let it be a part of 
the history of Ireland, that the Ameri- 
cans, after handing over to the descend- 
ants of Parthalon everything else, nobly 
added the public schools — but a voice 
intrudes itself upon me, and I listen, in 
spite of myself, to the 

"SONG OF THE SCHOOL-BELL." 
See them coming, a youthful throng, 
Rallying fast when they hear my song ; 
Still, I am swaying from side to side, 
And still they come in a surging tide. 
And even now in their youth I trace 
A look of sorrow in many a face ; 
Shadows thrown by the coming years, 
For time will bring them their 6hare of tears. 
Gathering fast at my early call, 
See, they are mustering one and all ! 
And still I sing as I swing about, 
And still they come with a gladsome shout, 
Romping and rollicking, 
Tittering, chattering, 
Laughing and frolicking, 
Little feet pattering — 
For they hear the notes of my morning 

chime, 
Calling, " Come ! come ; come, 'tis time, 'tis 
time. ' ' 

Hearts as light as the sunny beam, 
That shines to gladden a fairy's dream ; 
What to them are the carts of life, 
Its joys, its sorrows, its eager strife — 
The sky is bright, and the flowers in bloom, 
And the air is full of their sweet perfume ; 
And the coming years, to their childish view, 
Wear the garb of joy and a golden hue. 
Gathering fast at my early call, 
See, they are mustering one and all ! 
And still I sing as I swing about, 
And still they come with a gladsome shout, 



Romping and rollicking, 
Tittering, chattering, 
Laughing and frolicking, 
Little feet pattering — 
For they hear the notes of my morning 

chime, 
Calling, " Come ! come ; come, 'tis time, 'tis 
time. ' ' 

All day long from the belfry high, 
I gaze at the crowd as they bustle by ; 
I can single out from the busy tribe, 
The wretch who pockets the paltry bribe ; 
And the quacks, the demagogues, the fools, 
All gabbling loud of the public schools — 
A shiftless crew, and I scorn them all, 
And still to the loitering crowd I call. 
Gathering fast at my early call, 
See, they are mustering one and all ! 
And still I sing as I swing about, 
And still they come with a gladsome shout, 
Romping and rollicking, 
Tittering, chattering, 
Laughing and frolicking, 
Little feet pattering — 
For they hear the notes of my morning 

chime, 
Calling, "Come! come; come, 'tis time, 'tis 
time." 

Hands off, thou bigot, our cause the time 
Forbids you ; scatter no poisonous slime 
Over the hearts of our tender youth — 
The air they breathe must be filled with 

truth. 
Away with your relics of ages past — 
Your silly forms to the winds are cast. 
Go back to your gloomy cells and stay, 
Look to your own souls — watch and pray. 
Gathering fast at my early call, 
See, they are mustering one and all ! 
And still I sing as I swing about, 
And still they come with a gladsome shout, 
Romping and rollicking, 
Tittering, chattering, 
Laughing and frolicking, 
Little feet pattering — 
For they hear the notes of my morning 

chime, 
Calling, " Come ! come ; come, 'tis time, 'tis 
time." 

Year after year do they come and go, 
As the restless ocean doth ebb and flow — 
Coming still when they hear my chime — 
Or drifting out on the waste of time, 
Soon will their locks and their faces wear 
The frosts of time, and the marks of care ; 



58 



HIBERN1A ; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD VER. 



Now their cheeks are tinged with a youthful 

glow, 
And I siug, as they swing me to and fro. 
Gathering fast at my early call, 
See, they are mustering one and all ! 
And still I sing as I swing about, 
And still they come with a gladsome shout, 
Romping and rollicking, 
Tittering, chattering, 
Laughing and frolicking, 
Little feet pattering — 
For they hear the notes of my morning 

chime, 
Calling, " Come ! come ; come, 'tis time, 'tis 
time." 

The most contentious men in the world, 
and those most addicted to controversy, 
are the scholars. They stirred up dis- 
cord before Parthalon's time, and had 
that prudent and far-seeing man been so 
foolish as to admit a few of them into 
the ark, they would, without doubt, 
have made it uncomfortable, not only 
for his family, but for the beasts of the 
field and the birds of the air. 

They were carefully excluded, and the 
people of America, in selecting men to 
manage the public schools, have closely 
followed the example set by him. Few 
men who entertain ideas are allowed to 
serve as school officers, for ideas are 
thought to lead to disagreements and 
discussion. This is so well understood, 
that, with few exceptions, a man who 
thinks, or plans, or theorizes, does not 
offer himself for a school officer, knowing 
that his rejection would be certain. 

In what manuer to build the school- 
houses, appoint the teachers, and conduct 
affairs so that the "Party" may be 
strengthened, are, perhaps, as important 
as any questions presented ; and even 
these matters are disposed of by the men 
whose duty it is to arrange the plans for, 
and watch over the interests of, the party 
in power. 

There is a certain American bird which 
the orators once talked much about, and 
which we have always admired for his 



boldness and love of liberty, and the aid 
he has given American Fourth-of-July 
speakers — a race of patriots who would 
have had no existence to-day, had they 
not been furnished with that glorious 
theme, the Americau Eagle ; but they 
are now independent of him, and in the' 
subject of " Our Irish Fellow-Citizens," 
find something more inspiring and profit- 
able. We know that they display thrift 
and sound business capacity, when they 
turn from the Eagle to the Irishman ; 
but still we admire the bird, aud his song 
has a ring to it which ought, in our 
opinion, stir up a little national pride 
and spirit even in the heart of an Amer- 
ican, and stimulate him to share, at least 
with the noble Irish, the labor and re- 
sponsibility of governing his native land. 
Listen to 

"THE SONG OF THE EAGLE." 
Far from the haunts of toil and care, 
Up 'mongst the peaks where the thunder 

dwells ; 
Where the crags are rough, and the rocks are 

bare, 
And the ceaseless roar of the torrent swells 
Into an anthem grand — 'tis there 
I spread my wings in the mountain air, 
And my song is " Liberty ! '' 
Free I will ever be ; . 

As free as the flood in its foamy flow, 
From the rocks above to vale below. 

I shrink not back at the lightning's flash — 
Fear I leave to the whining slave ; 

He may bend and cringe when he feels the 
lash — 
I am as free as the bounding wave. 

E'en the God of Day, with his blinding rays, 

I meet and greet with a steadfast gaze — 

And my song is " Liberty ! " 

Free as the waves are free ; 

As free as the winds that bear my song 

From peak to peak, as they sweep along. 

There is music sweet in the clash of steel, 
When the blades are wielded by freemen 
strong, 

And joy when the ranks of the tyrant reel — 
Such notes are part of the Eagle's song. 

And I scream, when borne to my perch on high, 

Comes the struggling bondsman's battle-cry. 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER 



59 



^.nd my song is ' ' Liberty ! ' ' 

Tven as the winds are free, 

bid I'll boldly sing it, from shore to shore, 

Pill slaves shall suffer and pine no more. 

Mac Mnrrough became bold, and find- 
ng himself at the head of about three 
housand men, he marched into Ossory, 
ind made war on Donough Fitz Patrick, 
vhom he finally subdued. We are told 
:hat he ruled with the greatest cruelty, 
md a story is told of him which illus- 
rates his bloodthirsty disposition. He 
lad ordered three hundred heads of the 
lain to be piled up before him. and while 
lancing around the pile, and in the act 
»f performing antics most undignified for 
i king or the leader of an army, he dis- 
covered a familiar face, which proved to 
>e one which had belonged to a bitter 
merny. He caught it up in a transport 
>f rage, and gratified his hate by biting 
>ff the nose and lips of the man he did 
lot like when he was alive. 

Dermod, by the introduction of the 
Snglish nation into Ireland, inflicted 
nuch inconvenience upon the Irish peo- 
)le. That measure affected the Irish only. 
3ut by originating the custom of biting 
)ff the nose, lip, or ear of an enemy, 
le has interfered with the comfort and 
lisfigured the faces of all nations — for 
,be descendants of Mac Murrough and 
lis tribe keep up the hateful practice, and 
here is nothing a Mac Murrough so 
nuch enjoys to this day, as the mastica- 
ion of the nose, lip, or ear of the man 
le is displeased with. 

It was in the year 1170 that Strong- 
jow landed' in Ireland. His uncle had 
sreceded him and had entrenched himself 
n Wexford, when he was attacked by 
iome of the citizens ; but the intruders 
leld their ground, and captured seventy 
rf the assailants. Futile efforts were made 
to rescue or ransom them. They were 
brutally murdered by the English, their 
limbs broken, and then they were cast 



from a precipice into the sea — a plan 
adopted (which has since been often re- 
peated), "for striking terror into the 
hearts of the Irish." 

Strongbow, when about to sail for 
Ireland, was met with a peremptory 
order from the King of England to re- 
main at home, but he disregarded the 
mandate, and started. The day after 
his arrival, he laid seige to Waterford, 
and, in spite of a most heroic defense, 
his forces prevailed, and, having made a 
breach in the walls, entered the city. 

A cold-blooded massacre commenced, 
and while it was in progress, Mac Mur- 
rough arrived. He saved the lives of 
some prominent citizens, and interfered 
to stop further bloodshed, the only 
time in his life that he ever displayed the 
slightest objection to murder — but he had 
a motive. He wanted his daughter mar- 
ried to Strongbow, and it was inconve- 
nient to carry on a wedding and a mas- 
sacre at the same time. Eva was young 
and fair. Strongbow was an old widower, 
battered, scarred, and dilapidated ; but 
ambition, family pride, wealth, and such 
like considerations, had their weight in 
those days, as in ours. They were mar- 
ried. The groom wore lavender pants, a 
white vest, white kid gloves, and a black 
dress coat, the skirts of which were lined 
with white satin. He wore au elegant 
white satin cravat, and on the bosom 
of his shirt flashed a magnificent soli- 
taire diamond, which he had captured 
the night before from a citizen. 

The beautiful bride wore a rich, 
white satin, with skirt en train, and 
magnificent point aplique over-skirt, a 
veil to match, secured by a wreath of 
orange blossoms which half concealed, 
half disclosed, lier clustering curls of rich, 
golden yellow. Her feet, the smallest, 
daintiest in the land, were encased 
in white satin boots ; her gloves were 
white kid, — of course, Jouvin's make — 



60 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



and her jewelry was formed of the choicest 
specimens of moss agate set in Irish 
gold. 

As they entered the church, filled 
with a most gorgeously dressed and aris- 
tocratic company, the friends of the 
happy couple, the organ pealed forth 
Mendelsohn's Grand Wedding March, 
while the atmosphere was filled with the 
perfume of Nilson bouquet, and night- 
blooming cereus. 

Strongbow having business which de- 
tained him in Ireland, the wedding trip 
was limited to Dublin, for which point 
they started, soon after the marriage 
ceremonies were performed. The wed- 
ding party were accompanied by the 
army, a circumstance which greatly 
alarmed the Irish people. 

Some distance from Dublin, the 
bride's father was met by the Archbishop 
O'Toole, who sought to make terms for 
the frightened populace. While the nego 
tiations were pending, some of the Eng- 
lish entered Dublin and commenced an 
indiscriminate butchery. The slaughter 
was stayed by an order from Mac Mur- 
rogh, who marched to Meath, leaving 
Miles de Cogan to govern Dublin. He 
had a settlement to make with Roderic, 
which he could not longer postpone ; in 
short, he had carried off Roderic 's wife, 
Dervorgil, and felt it to be his duty to 
follow up the man he had wronged with 
fire and sword. 

Dermod died in the year 1171, of an 
unknown disease. He became putrid 
while living. From all accounts, he 
would not, for weeks before his death, 
have been an agreeable person to ride 
with in a closely-packed street car. De- 
liver us from the body of an Irish king 
in a state of putridity. It is too much 
even for au American stomach. . An 
old MS. in Trinity College, Dublin, has 
it, that he died " after the victory of 
penance and unction." 



CHAPTER XL 

Henry II — The Duty of Americans— A Warning 
to Demagogues — " She Stoops to Conquer " — 
Family Discord — Cookery — Luxury — Death 
of Strongbow — The Church of Kilmainham — 
The old Quarrel — The Irish survive War, Pesti- 
lence, and Famine — They are invited to Amer- 
ica — Hymn of Welcome — John — Literary Diffi- 
culties — Sacred Localities — St. John's Well— 
The good little Boys and the Irish Ghost— The 
Former made Deputy-Sherifls — The Latter 
Doorkeeper to the Board of Assistant Alder- 
men — Spirit Names on the Pay-RoHb — Fiann 
and the White Fawn— The Spell — It is broken. 

Henry II., King of England, landed 
in Ii eland ou the 18th of October, 1171. 
The Irish, pure and innocent themselves, 
were slow to suspect the English of any 
evil intentions. Worn out by continual 
strife, they were willing to place in the 
hands of any just and impartial ruler, 
the reins of government. 

In this circumstance we find that which 
should be taken as a warning, or indi- 
cation of what may happen in America, 
if captious and discontented natives con- 
tinue to criticise and discuss the conduct 
of their Irish rulers. Those who now ad- 
minister the Government of the United 
States, may, as their ancestors did in the 
year 1171, become so disgusted with pub- 
lic affairs, as to refuse to take any part in 
them. Resenting the attacks of the vic- 
ious and unjust, they may leave the simple- 
minded and inexperienced people of that 
now prosperous country a prey to dema- 
gogues, or at the mercy of any unprin- 
cipled man ambitious enough to desire 
to become a despot. With the greatest 
care the American people should guard 
against saying or doing anything likely 
to irritate, offend, or discourage their 
benefactors. It requires but little dis- 
cernment to discover that the charges 
of ignorance, extravagance, and dis- 
honesty made against those in authority 
are the inventions of corrupt natives, 
foolishly ambitious, and who are striv- 
ing to prejudice their countrymen against 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



61 



a people who have left the homes of 
their youth, the scenes of their child- 
hood, the stately castles of their ances- 
tors, wealth, station, and power, to gov- 
ern a young, giddy, and thoughtless 
nation, who are but taking their first 
lessons in political economy. 

The brazen-faced American who stands 
for office should be frowned down by an 
indignant community ; no matter what 
feeling may rankle in his heart, the tax- 
payer should perform his duty with a 
smile on his face. The orator and the 
poet should unite to praise the noble 
sons of Erin, while the historian should 
labor to record some, at least, of his 
multitudinous virtues. 

A different course of conduct would 
rob the great American metropolis of 
her aldermen, render her voting places 
lonely and -deserted, make her court- 
house, still unfinished, the abode of owls 
and bats, while men would roam her 
streets, more murderous and blood- 
thirsty, if possible, than those of to-day. 

Our generous rulers cannot but find 
their labors great, and their time fully 
occupied, so that importunity is in bad 
taste and out of place. Columbia may 
sometimes solicit favors, but they should 
be such as can be spared by the solicited, 
without detriment to themselves or their 
near relatives ; she should approach them 
with that humility which their greatness 
and her insignificance renders eutirely 
pruper. It is her disposition to do so. 
We are rejoiced to know that 

"SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER." 

'• She stoops to conquer," but in vain 

The suppliant knee is bent ; 
He holds the prize with iron-grip, 

Refusing to relent. 

' ' She stoops to conquer ; " lo ! he frowns, 
And spurns her earnest prayer ; 

His angry look, his stern reproof, 
Will drive her to despair. 



" She stoops to conquer," in the dust 

Columbia sorrowing lies ; 
How can he thus her prayer refuse — 

Her grief, her tears despise. 

; ' She stoops to conquer, ' ' let her beg, 

Submissive still, and meek ; 
Her rights let, her solicit from 

The 'influential •'Greek." 

' ' She stoops to conquer, ' ' pleading still — 

Oh, will he then depart ? 
Will no^her tears subdue his wrath, 

Nor melt his Irish heart ? 

" She stoops to conquer," still she strives 

New arguments to bring ; 
My vote, he says, you cannot have, 

I've sold it to the " Ring ! " 

King Henry mentioned as a custom 
in his family, " that the son hated the 
father, and each member of the family 
detested all the others." His words 
were : "From the devil we came, and 
to the devil we shall go ; " but he did not 
say what is to become of the people of 
the United States. 

The use of cranes' flesh was introduced 
into Irelaud about this time, together 
with that of herrings, peacocks, and 
geese. To serve a peacock with its 
feathers, was, in those days, a grand ex- 
ploit. It was first roasted, and after 
being allowed to cool a little, was served 
up in its skin, a"^ • - served on the 
table as if alive. The successful per- 
formance of this feat secured to the 
cook great praise. Cream of almonds 
was a favorite diet with the king, and 
there were not wanting men in those days 
to condemn these things as extravagant 
and unnecessary, just as the malcontents 
of modern times swear at the stately 
palaces, the costly equipages, the choice 
wines, the gold and precious stones, the 
princely raiments, palatial stables, and 
liveried lacqueys which have been be- 
stowed upon the Irish statesmen of 
America, by a grateful constituency. 

A description of the knights of the 






62 



H1BERNIA ; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD VER. 



day of which we write will also remind 
the reader of a modern Thanksgiving 
legion. A writer tells us that the 
knights of Henry's reign were " loaded 
with wine, instead of steel, and spits, 
instead of lances." 

Strongbow died of an ulcer which had 
broken out in his foot, brought about 
through the miracles of a combination 
of saints whose churches he had de- 
stroyed. He was haunted by a spectre 
of St. Bridgid, who pursued him, as he 
thought, to kill him. The same spectre 
has appeared in America, haunting sin- 
ful housewives and their wicked hus- 
bands. Sinner, as he was, he founded 
the Church of Kilmainham, concerning 
which there is a legend. A young man 
had committed a theft, and, to clear him- 
self of the crime, had taken a false oath. 
He afterwards went to England ; but 
he felt so much oppressed with the 
weight of the cross, that he was 
compelled to return and confess his 
guilt. He should have settled in New 
York. Strongbow's effigy was broken 
in 1562, but was repaired in 1570. Up 
to the middle of the last century, his 
tomb was an appointed place for the 
payment of bonds, rents, and bills of ex- 
change. He has been accused of cut- 
ing his son in two for cowardice, but 
later writers have refuted the vile slan- 
der, and have proven, beyond a doubt, 
that he only ran his sword through his 
son's belly. 

The Irish continued in the midst of 
defeat and disaster to quarrel with each 
other, or rather to keep up the old 
quarrel, which had lasted without cessa- 
tion since the days of the Greek and 
the fifty maidens. This seems to be 
the result of the climate of Ireland more 
than of a disposition upon the Irish to in- 
dulge in strife or contentions. In other 
countries, they are found to live in per- 
fect harmony. The decision which the 



first of that nation to visit America made, 
which was to take entire possession and 
absolute control of the country, has been 
acquiesced in by all the Irish people who 
have since made America their home. 
There may have been some doubts, dis- 
agreements, and discussions over the 
distributions of the rewards, which their 
disinterestedness has secured to them 
from the grateful people they have ruled ; 
but, in the main, they have acted to- 
gether, never disagreeing upon the 
great point — that Irishmen should rule 
America. 

The man of thought will regard with 
wonder the fact that so many of the 
Irish people have survived the calami- 
ties which have from time to time be- 
fallen their beloved island : the plagues, 
the floods, and the famines ; the show- 
ers of blood, and, more destructive than 
all, the wars waged by the Northern 
Hy Nials against the Southern Hy Nials, 
and the Southern Hy Nials against the 
Northern Hy Nials, and by Irishmen 
upon Irishmen, generally and continually 
and indefatigably. Fortunately for man- 
kind, a few were spared, so that justice, 
liberty, learning, and virtue are not with- 
out advocates and supporters. America 
enjoys her full share of these blessings, 
and the Irish element in that country may 
be fairly called a salt which has not lost 
its savor, but which is powerful in its 
seasoning and preservative qualities, so 
that it will not let society spoil, though 
society may be inclined to do so. The 
following hymn is chanted daily by the 
grateful people of the Western World, 
to a stately Irish tune known as "Old 
Hundred." It is called the 

HYMN OF WELCOME. 

Welcome, our brothers, pure and meek, 
Descendants of the valiant Greek, 
Come one, come all, throughout our days, 
We'll chant thy virtues, sing thy praise. 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND TEE WORLD OVER. 



63 



And we our duty will discharge, 
And when you come in cargoes large, 
We'll take you to our bosoms then, 
And make you each a citizen. 

Let envious bigots rant and rail 
Against you ; they shall not prevail — 
The land is yours where ere you go, 
And shall with milk and honey flow. 

The offices, your lawful spoil, 
We will support by daily toil, 
And you shall sit in awful state, 
Among the rulers and the great. 

How can you then our prayers refuse — 
Behold ! our tempting revenues, 
And we shall not our cares relax, 
But toil, and strive to pay the tax. 

Come, generous men, a nation calls — 
Fill, fill our legislative halls, 
And we will praise thee day by day, 
Though you may vote our cash away. 

See where the simple native rules, 
Or slumbers o'er the public schools ; 
Oh ! make our little ones your care, 
Or we must sink in dark despair. 

Remove the Bible — kick it out ; 
Your good intentions, who can doubt. 
Resistless time still onward rolls — 
Oh ! teach us how to save our souls. 

Of all our interests dispose, 
Get rich and wear the finest clothes, 
And though we may deserve your frown, 
With patient pity still look down. 

Come, Mike and Bridget, Kate and Pat. 
In corduroys and battered hat — 
And Terry, Larry, Judy, Jim, 
To you we dedicate this hymn. 

Our kitchen wait, our children dear, 
Will sigh in vain till you are here. 
While still in darkest night we grope, 
With nothing left, alas ! but hope. 

Our puny courts must sink and pine, 
Till Irish intellect shall shine, 
And dazzle, like a gleaming star, 
Our fast decaying Bench and Bar. 

In costly coaches you shall sit — 
And sparkling wine and rarest wit, 
And beauty's face, all beaming bright, 
Shall cheer the fleeting hours of night. 



In one united voice we call, 
And humbly at thy feet we fall ; 
Then take us, goods and chatties, too, 
For all we have belongs to you. 

John ascended the English throne in 
1199. Meanwhile the O'Connors were 
fighting in Kerry. Cathal Carragh was 
engaged in an effort to expel Cathal 
Crovderg. The O'Neills, the O'B-riens, 
the Mac Carthys, and O'Flahertys be- 
came involved, and matters culminated in 
a massacre of six hundred of the English, 
who had been billeted upon the Irish, and 
had incensed them beyond endurance. 

It is a curious fact, that if the O'Neills 
and the O'Connors contend, the Mac- 
Carthys and the O'Flahertys are sure to 
turn up on one side or the other, and if 
the struggle continues, the Murphys, the 
Brophys, O'Riellys, O'Tooles, MacGin- 
nes's, Collopys, MacSheas, Gilloolys, Cro- 
neeus, and Moonays all come into the 
melee, bringing with them, true to ancient 
Irish custom, their wives, who, while the 
battle rages between the men, form their 
separate line and go into the fight with 
a disregard of pain, bruises, and blood- 
shed truly admirable. 

It is a matter of sincere regret that 
the legends and traditions of Ireland 
have not been given to the world in such 
a form as to put them within the reach 
of people of limited means, and, at the 
same time, attract the attention of the 
reading public. 

The civil wars of Ireland, the invasions 
of the Britons, their cruelty and the 
hatred with which they seemed to regard 
every thing Irish, and particularly Irish 
literature, has, without doubt, deprived 
us of many scores of volumes equal to 
any yet produced by the brain of man. 
The Irish still hold sacred many of the 
traditions and localities of Ireland. St. 
John's Well, near the town of Kilkenny, 
is still visited by scores of cripples, in- 
valids, and blind, or " Dark People." It 



64 



HIBERN1A ; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD VER. 



is believed that when a cure is willed by 
Heaven, the sky opens above the well 
at midnight, aud Christ, the Virgin Mary, 
and St. John descend with the- rapidity 
of lightning into the well. None but 
such as are destined to be cured can see 
this wonderful spectacle ; but all present 
can hear the gentle fluttering of their 
wings, which sounds appear to the lis- 
teners like heavenly harmony. 

There is a story of Donegal Castle, 
which we also insert : Two boys, leav- 
ing their companions, climbed over the 
broken walls, and entered the great hall 
of the castle, just as the moon was dis- 
appearing behind a cloud. To their 
astonishment and dismay, they found sit- 
ting before them, or rather crouching 
over a fire, a wrinkled and infirm old 
man, his locks white as snow, and his 
silvery beard descending upon his breast. 
He announced himself to be the father 
of the race of Cinel-Connaill, and en- 
gaged in watching the sacred fire, which, 
he told them, would otherwise go out. 
He talked of ancient wars, and glory 
long departed — weeping himself, and 
melting the hearts of the boys ; then, 
after charging them to love their country, 
and grow up noble men and patriots, he 
vanished. They took his advice, and 
moved to New York, and were made 
deputy sheriffs. They never allowed an 
opportunity to pass to praise and honor 
their native Ireland. They were thrifty, 
and saved, in five years, one hundred 
thousand dollars each, with salaries of 
only eighteen hundred per annum. They 
still believed in the spirits, but not such 
as haunted Donegal Castle. Their grati- 
tude to the old man may kffe inferred 
from the circumstance that they brought 
him to America, and made him, ghost as 
he was, doorkeeper to the Board of As- 
sistant Aldermen. 

A large number of names appear on 
the rolls of employees kept by the New 



York city authorities, which are not 
represented by flesh aud blood ; and this 
fact is explained by the story just re- 
lated. They are the names of persons 
who died, some of them, centuries ago ; 
but whose faithful spirits continue to fill 
important offices, render valuable ser- 
vices, and watch over, with a power de- 
nied to mortal vision, the interests and 
welfare of the American people. 

Fiann became the victim of enchant- 
ment. A maiden of the magic race 
of the Tuatha de Dananns undertook 
to transform his youth and vigor into 
age and decrepitude. She assumed 
the form of a white doe of great beauty, 
and appearing to Fiann, inspired him 
with a desire to follow her. He called 
his hounds and started in pursuit. 
The chase lasted from sunrise until 
the shades of evening set in, when he 
found himself on the shore of a placid 
lake. The doe had disappeared, and 
upon a green bank sat a lady of great 
beauty, weeping, and exhibiting every 
indication of extreme distress. Fiann 
asked the cause of her sorrow, when she 
replied, that since the rising of the sun 
she had mourned for a rich jewel which 
she had accidently dropped into the 
lake, and which she must recover or be 
forever unhappy. The valiant Fiann 
plunged into the clear waters, aud, des- 
cending, found the jewel, and soon came 
with it to the surface ; but, alas ! old 
nge had seized upon his limbs, and his 
locks were snowy white. He reached 
the shore with difficulty, and for days 
wandered about in the valley, bent and 
withered like a worn and famished war- 
rior. At home he was missed by his 
chieftians, who, impatient at his long 
absence, started out to find him. They 
met him near the enchanted lake, but 
so changed as to be entirely unknown 
to them. They inquired for Fiann, a 
youthful king, who, with his hounds, was 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



65 



hunting through the glens. Fiann knew 
them, and told his mournful Story, when 
they sought the cave of the enchantress, 
bearing him upon their golden bucklers. 
They assailed the eutrance, which re- 
sisted the attack for three days and 
nights ; but at last they made their way 
into the presence of the Evil One, and 
demanded that she restore their king, 
when she gave him a golden cup, from 
which he drank a magic draught. The 
spell was broken ; his youthful vigor 
and manly beauty returned to him, and 
with these great wisdom and knowledge. 
He moved to New York and became a 
leading public man. 



CHAPTER XII. 



Fate of Geoffrey — The Vestments of Lead — State 
of Ireland in 1210 — O'Donnell More, and Mur- 
ray O'Daly, the Poet — Dyes — Colors — Green a 
popular Color — Song, " When the Mayor wore 
the Green " — Nursery Rhymes — Whittington 
and his Cat — Hey-diddle-diddle— More Nursery 
Rhymes — The Mayor's Dream — Irish Literature 
in America — Cure for the Ague — The art of 
Stuffing— The Alphabet in Easy Lessons. 

In the year 1205 John granted the 
Earldom of Ulster to Hugh De Lacy. 
He procured the election of a favorite to 
the See of Canterbury, a measure which 
displeased the Pope, who withheld his 
approbation. John swore an awful oath, 
" by God's teeth," that he would cut off 
the noses and tear out the eyes of any 
priest who should takes sides with the 
Pope in the controversy. Five of the 
bishops were bold enough to promulgate 
the interdict, but lacking the courage to 
stay and take the consequences, they fled 
to France ; but Geoffrey, Archdeacon of 
Norwich, was taken. His fate was a ter- 
rible one : enveloped in a sacerdotal vest- 
ment of lead, he was thrown into prison 
and allowed to die of starvation. 

Some idea of the state of Ireland in 
the year 1210 may be formed from the 



circumstance, that a company of Bristol 
people who had settled iu Dublin, while 
out amusing themselves in Cullen's Wood, 
were set upon by the O'Byrnes and 
O'Tooles, who rushed down from the 
Wicklow Mountains, and killed three 
hundred. A nobleman of great wealth 
incurred the displeasure of John and 
fled to France. His wife, Matilda, and 
her son were taken and shut up in a 
room in Corfe Castle, in the Isle of Pem- 
broke. A sheaf of wheat and a piece 
of raw bacon were the only provisions 
allowed them. Three days afterwards 
the doors of their prison were opened, 
and the prisoners were found to be dead. 

Iu 1213, O'Donnell More sent his 
steward to Counaught to collect tribute, 
when he chanced to fall in with Murray 
O'Daly, who was a poet. The steward 
" wrangled " with the poet, and spoke 
(we infer) disparagingly of his rhymes. 
The poet felt hurt, " and killed his tor- 
menter on the spot with a sharp axe." In 
those times an affair of this kind created 
a sensation. Society was less refined and 
cultivated than at present, and the poet 
was compelled to fly for his life. It is 
evident that he was not on good terms 
with the authorities, nor could he have 
been a politician ; otherwise he would not 
have been compelled to leave his home. 

Just where he went, we will not at- 
tempt to say, but suppose he moved to 
America. One account, however, in- 
forms us that he wrote several poems, 
and sent them to O'Donnell, who, quite 
overcome, pardoned the culprit on the 
condition that he was to inflict upon the 
chief no more verses. 

In the matter of colors and dyes, the 
antiquity of Ireland appears, as well as 
the ingenuity and enterprise of the peo- 
ple. In no part of Ireland will the trav- 
eller light on anything more pregnant 
of interesting associations than in West 
Connaught, The Caddah cloak of .every 



66 



H1BEBNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



description is very remarkable. The 
learned Doctor Nicholson, who stated in 
1125 that there was no indigenous plant 
on the island to dye blue, was mistaken, 
for the blue dye has been known to the 
peasants of Mayo for generations. The 
color is also common in Partry. The 
peasant who appears in a pair of blue 
stockings is at once put down as a 
Partryman. In the parish of Turlough, 
a very fine blue fringe is made, which 
contains a small admixture of white. 
Purple is the color peculiar to the peo- 
ple of Tirawley. With the Irish people, 
generally, green is by far the most pop- 
ular color — a strange taste, which has 
brought most of that nation to the United 
States, attracted by the green fields, 
hillsides, and inhabitants of that coun- 
try. The term "green" signifies, in 
America, innocence and simplicity, qual- 
ties which were most liberally displayed 
by the Americans when they turned over 
their government, institutions, and reve- 
nues to the sages of the Emerald Isle. 
The Irish wanted America, and the 
Americans gave it to them, influenced 
by that innocent simplicity in that coun- 
try, known as " greenness ; " but a ques- 
tion arises, when the Americans want 
their country back, as they very likely 
will after it has been placed in fair run- 
ning order, will the Irishman be so in- 
nocent and simple, or, in other words, 
" so green as to give it up." We take 
it, that however fond he may be of the 
green, he will not display it then. The 
great city of New York not long since 
appeared in a green suit, by her repre- 
sentative, the Mayor. There is no way 
for a community to speak or act except 
through its proper representative ; so that 
when the Mayor of New York puts on 
a green suit, it may be said that New 
York is arrayed in green. The states- 
manship displayed by the official referred 
to has been celebrated in immortal song. 



The carol will go down to future gener- 
ations in form, as follows : 

" WHEN THE MAYOR WORE THE 

GREEN." 

Ant — "Wearing of the Green." 

Oh ! I hear the drummers beating, 
And the trumpets' brazen blare, 
While the "Roughs" and "Newsboys" 
gather, 
With a wild, excited stare. 
Arid from "Cop." to "Cop." they hurry, 

Asking what it all can mean ; 
" 'Tis the Mayor," so they answer, 

" In a suit of Irish green." 
And the band so grandly plays, 
And the "Biddies," how they gaze, 
While they whisper, " Sure he ought 
To stay in office all his days." 

See him move along the line, 
In his linen, white and fine ; 
And he chuckles as he mutters, 
" Ah ! the Irish vote is mine." 

'Tis the birthday of Saint Patrick, 

And the boys are out for fun — 
So they listen to the Mayor, 
And expect to hear a pun. 
And the desperate " repeater " 

Now explores his neighbor's fob, 
While he longs for the election, 

And another paying job. 
Still he follows with the crowd, 
And his cheers are long and loud — 
For he gave the Mayor fifty votes, 
And of his work is proud. 

See him move along the line, 
In his linen, white and fine ; 
And he chuckles as he mutters, 
" Ah ! the Irish vote is mine.'' 

It is in our free America 

That the Irish have their way, 
And can break a score of Yankee heads, 

Upon St. Patrick's day. 
In ribbons gay, with flashing swords, 

Their gallant horsemen ride ; 
And when they march along the streets, 

Let natives stand aside. 
With policemen front and rear, 
If a Yankee ventures near, 
He is sure to get a bruising, 
For the marshals are severe. 

See" him move along the line, 
In his linen, white and fine ; 
And he chuckles as he mutters, 
" Ah ! the Trish vote is mine.'' 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



67 



We gaze upon the charming sight, 

And watch their banners fine, 
But venture not too near to them, 

Nor penetrate the line. 
For reckless men, before our time, 

By Irish wrath have bled — 
Aud why should we ambitious be 

To gain a broken head ? 
( lb. ! we have no such desire, 
So we quietly retire 
Before the fight commences, 
Or they put us ' ' under fire. ' ' 

See him move along the line, 
In his linen, white and fine ; 
And he chuckles as he mutters, 
" Ah ! the Irish vote is mine." 

We watch the smile that lingers just 

Below the Mayor's nose, 
And see the crowd all gathered 'round, 

To gaze upon his clothes. 
For they are made of brightest green — 

Both pantaloons and coat — 
A pious *raud, so people say, 

To gain the Irish vote. 
And the Mayor gives a wink, 
And the Boss a knowing blink — 
And they call the Irish asses, 
As they sit ardund their drink. 

See him move along the line, 
In his linen, white and fine ; 
And he chuckles as he mutters, 
" Ah ! the Irish vote is mine." 

It has been claimed, by men of great 
research and profound learning, that 
many of the rhymes which are sung by 
the nurses to quiet the complaints of, or 
lull to sleep, the infants of the land, had 
their origin in some political or public 
affair— often an event of importance. 
This is particularly true in America ; 
nearly all the nursery songs have been 
suggested by something of public inter- 
est. We give specimens of rhymes which 
are in the mouths of the gentle nurses 
and old-fashioned dames throughout the 
country, and which are more soothing to 
the babes than any elixir yet invented. 

Four-and-twenty nice birds all in a " Ring " 

Money, money, money, is the melody they 
sine:. 



Fat birds and lean birds, black birds and 

brown ; 
Isn't it a dainty dish to set before the town ? 

And again : 

Mickey was an alderman, 

And wore a velvet coat ; 
Jimmy went to Mickey's house 

And dickered for his vote. 
Rings on his fingers, 

And " bonds " laid aside, 
Bring along a coach-and-six, 

For Mickey wants to ride. 

We cannot inform the reader who is 
referred to in the following lines, but 
they seem to point at some one who has, 
in his life, made political changes, join- 
ed different parties, and succeeded in 
the main object by finally working his 
way into lucrative offices. 
Over and under, 

And under and over ; 
He wiggles and wriggles about, 

And keeps for himself 
A nice place in the clover. 

Why don't the good folks 
Kick him out ? 

It is a singular fact, that the class 
who use nursery rhymes, keep well-in- 
formed on the subject of public affairs, 
and events of interest are seized upon 
by them, and preserved in simple but 
enduring verses, which convey to future 
generations sometimes a word of en- 
couragement, but oftener, a hint or a 
warning. 

The story of Whittington and his cat 
is a tale of honorable ambition, proper- 
ly rewarded, while the cow in the act 
of jumping over the moon, with a " Hey- 
diddle-diddle," is suggestive of an itin- 
erant something or somebody assuming 
the airs of greatness and attempting to 
palm himself off for an honest man and a 
gentleman. "The little dog that laughed" 
no doubt refers to the craven creatures 
who are ready to rejoice, even with a ras- 
cal, provided his schemes succeed ; or, 
perhaps, we are to understand that such 



HIBERNIA ; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD VER. 



a character can only expect to be laughed 
at by curs, aud that, after all, he is to 
go to the dogs. Some of these rhymes 
assume a tone of warniug, and often rise 
almost to the grade of prophecy — such, 
for instance, as the following : 

Oakity Hokity, our Lord Mayor, 

Fell asleep in his easy-chair ; 

And he dreamt a dream, and he woke with 

fright. 
Said he, I have seen a fearful sight ; 
A thief was stuffing a ballot-box ; 
" A murdered man with his gory locks, 
Lay close by the grave just being dug. 
By a wretch, who gibbered, " I am a Thug ;" 
And it pained my heart when I heard the cry, 
Of a babe thrown into the street to die. 
Then I murmured something about the law, 
And the devil laughed with a loud ha, ha. 
" Go on, you are serving me well," said he, 
' ' Waste none of your whimpering words on 

me." 
And this was the dream of our Lord Mayor, 
Who fell asleep in his easy-chair. 

The question may be asked, what 
have these things to do with a sketch of 
the Irish race ? We answer that these 
significant little ditties, with nearly 
everything else of a political character 
used in America, are the contributions of 
Irishmen to the literature of the West- 
ern World. 

The American buys and sells goods, 
deals in stocks, trades horses, peddles 
tin-ware, edits newspapers, and talks 
politics — and these things so completely 
occupy his time, that he has not a mo- 
ment to spare for any other purpose. 
The welfare of his soul, even is a matter 
" which he farms out," as cold-blooded 
people do their babies, and as the lat- 
ter are left to suffer and die in this 
world, so will the soul of the Ameri- 
can pine and perish " in the world to 
come." Such, at least, is the opinion 
of people who feel a deep interest in 
the subject of American salvation, so 
deep, indeed, that they are willing, in 
addition to the governments, local and 



national, to take full control of all char- 
itable and literary institutions, public 
schools, hospitals, asylums, prisons, and 
consciences ; and the peace-loving natives, 
appreciating their disinterestedness and 
generosity, and overjoyed by the propo- 
sition, will yield the control of all these 
things to their benefactors, and thus se- 
cure eternal happiness. 

The Irish took with them to the Uni- 
ted States a correct knowledge of the 
arts and sciences, a cultivated taste for 
music, and a thorough acquaintance with 
all things pertaining to government ; but, 
fully notified of the prevalence of fever 
and ague, they saw the need of a remedy, 
which they imported from their native 
land, aud which has never yet been 
known to fail. For the benefit of such 
of our fellow-citizens as live in a fever 
and ague district, and which is always 
eight or ten miles further on, we will 
give a never-failing Irish remedy : 

Take the patient, and either reduce 
his weight, or wait until the disease does 
it ; then, when he can be conveniently 
handled, obtain the services of an ass 
(there is not a neighborhood in America 
without one or more), and pass the suf- 
ferer carefully over his back and under 
his belly. Let this be done three times, 
repeating the following words, which 
have come down to us from Parthalon : 

' ' Good doctor Donkey. I shake and shiver, 
Cure my body and cleanse my liver, 
I have swallowed powders, pukes, and pills, 
Good Doctor Donkey, cure my ills. ' ' 

If the donkey is well-disposed, he lops 
his ears back, shuts one eye, and the 
patient goes on his way rejoicing. Should 
he show his teeth, or a disposition to 
kick, it is best to look for another don- 
key — and one can always be found with 
little trouble. 

We have referred to the great skill 
of the Irish cooks. To stuff a fowl, roast 
it and serve it, feathers and all, was 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



69 



regarded a great feat, but the noble 
science has been of late neglected, and 
fallen into decay. Other matters have 
occupied the public mind, and the art 
of stuffing a ballot-box is now practiced 
to such an extent as to entirely destroy 
any influence which the voter may de- 
sire to exert over the election of persons 
to fill the different offices. 

In this way a dangerous public have 
been deprived of all power, and these 
skillful "stuffers" of the ballot-box, in 
the hands of a few men of ability, con- 
trol the destines of a great country. 

The fact that a few men only control 
and manage public affairs, leads us to 
doubt whether we can boast of a purely 
democratic form of government. 

We meet another curious ditty, which 
we insert, as it seems to bear upon the 
manners of the times : 

A was an alderman 

Who wanted a job, 
And sought for a way 

To put " Cash " in his fob. 

B was a bully 

Who ran up and down, 
And voted his ticket 

All over the town. 

C is controller 

With slippery looks, 
Who pockets the cash 

And then locks up his books. 

D was a demagogue 

Ranting and loud, 
On knavery bent, 

Yet he humbugged the crowd. 

E stands for elegant 

Fop, whom you meet, 
All curled and perfumed, 

Promenading the street. 

F stands for fighter — 

No land ever knew 
A bloodier set 

Or more rascally crew. 

And so we shall follow 

The alphabet down 
To Zany, the fool, 

And the butt of the town. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Glowing accounts from the Western World- 
More Nursery Rhymes— Little Dickey Connor 
—Emigration seriously checked— An Irish- 
man escapes Citizenship — He does not Vote — 
Clans or Target Companies— Henry III.— Sal- 
aries — De Clare and O'Brien — Treachery of 
De Clare — The name of New England to be 
abolished — New Ireland — New Cork — The 
Banshee — Strange Visions — Satan and his Imps 
— He visits New York— Disturbs the peace — 
The Blarney-stone again — Removed to Blar- 
ney Castle — Removed at great expense to 
New York — De Toleburne and his Horses — 
Fitz Maurice of the Ape — Offices — Edward 
Bruce and the Scotch — The Butler Family — 
Crime, Predictions, and Omens — The Prosper- 
ity of America threatened — Reforms needed — 
Owls— The Man in the White Hat— The Grave- 
yard Owl— The Jolly Owl— The Song of the 
Owl — The Bats coming — Nursery Rhymes. 

From time to time, men who have 
figured conspicuously in Irish history, 
seem to disappear or drop out, with no 
satisfactory account of when and how. 
We have investigated some instances of 
this kind, and find that they either die 
or move to New York. The latter class 
will, in almost every case, get back into 
history, for American affairs are sure to 
drive them into public life, when every act 
of theirs becomes food for the historian. 

For reasons before mentioned, it was 
expected that many would go to America. 
The Irish, in Ireland, were in constant 
communication with those of America, 
and the accounts they received from that 
Western El Dorado were glowing, bu» 
not exaggerated. They spoke of th 
hearty welcome all Irishmen received 
and told how office, influence, and wealth 
awaited all such as would consent tv 
enter public life ; even the songs of th* 
children, seemed to bear some relation to 
the happy condition of the Irish in that 
country, and served far more than the 
mere casual observer may be willing to 
admit, to stimulate Irish emigration. 
An irresistible longing to see the new 
world seized the heart of the Irishman, 



70 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND TEE WORLD OVER. 



who happened to hear, from the lips of 
a juvenile, lines like the following : 

Ring around a rosy — 

Noses very red ; 
Champagne cocktails 

Before we go to bed. 
Punch in the stable, 

Every Sunday morn, 
Walk up, ring-men, 

And .take another horn. 

Little Dickey Connor — 
'Tis true upon my honor — 

Was eating a piece of pie ; 
And he pulled out the plums, 
And he shared with his chums, 

And said, " Oh ! what a lucky dog am I." 

Emigration was checked for several 
years, by a most unfortunate circum- 
stance : An Irishman landed at Castle 
Garden, his heart full of hope and joy ; 
and even before he had fallen into the 
hands of the Committee on Naturaliza- 
tion, he met a negro, who, to his amaze- 
ment, exhibited the brogue of Tipperary 
— in fact, he had been born and raised 
in an Irish settlement. The Irishman 
asked but few questions, and gathering 
from the answers that the black had 
been but one month in the country, con- 
cluded he was a genuine Irishman, and 
that his dusky skin was the result of the 
climate. He got on board the ship, 
without being made a citizen, and mak- 
ing his way to Ireland in the shortest 
possible time, reported that the effect 
of the climate of America was to turn 
people black, and to cause the hair to 
curl so tight to their heads as to make 
it impossible for them to close their eyes, 
even when they slept. As usual with a 
frightened man, he exaggerated the ac- 
count, and told how he had seen scores 
of Irishmen coal-black, and fast asleep 
with their eyes wide open. It took some 
years to undeceive these pure and simple- 
minded people, and prominent officials 
have v'sited Ireland, quite lately, for no 
other purpose but to overcome the mis- 



givings which some of the people still 
entertain on the subject of emigration. 
Political leaders blamed their subordi- 
nates who allowed an Irishman to escape 
them, and leave the country before he 
was made a voter, and had exercised, at 
least once, the glorious privilege of an 
American citizen. 

The reader is aware by this time that 
in Ireland the people were divided into 
tribes or clans. In America, the custom 
is kept up, and they are still fond of 
organizing numbers of men into what 
they call " target companies." These half- 
military, half-convivial organizations are 
extremely popular with the politician, 
and well they may be, for they delight in 
doing him honor. It is a pleasant sur- 
prise to a public man when he leaves his 
bed in the morning to find a full hun- 
dred of stalwart fellows in line in front 
of his house, banners flying, and drums 
beating. Before breakfast is thought to 
be a bad time to ask or expect favors, but 
the rule does not apply to target com- 
panies. They know, and so does the un- 
fortunate servant of the people whom 
they have selected to honor, that the 
banners will wave, and the drumming 
and cheering continue, until he has re- 
sponded in a manner becoming his sta- 
tion ; and, with this fully understood, the 
silver pitcher, the goblet, or the fifty 
dollar note is sure to be forthcoming. A 
really popular man is liable to have the 
friendship of a number of companies of 
this kind. 

In the year 1271 De Clare, and 
O'Brien, entered into vows of friendship 
swearing fidelity to each other by all the 
oaths in Munster, as balls, relics of saints, 
and they all proved to be as false as the 
oath of a canvasser of votes in -New 
York. De Clare betrayed the confiding 
O'Brien, and after various struggles and 
much deception, the proud O'Brien be- 
came his prisoner, when he ordered him 



HIBERNIA; fR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



71 



to be dragged to death between horses. 
De Clare was afterwards killed by the 
O'Briens, who then moved to New York, 
where they have become a rich and pow- 
erful family. 

New England is a name applied to a 
portion of the United States, by some of 
the admirers of the English people. It 
has always been deemed unfortunate and 
unjust that insignificant Britain should 
give a name to any part of the Ameri- 
can continent, and that Ireland should 
be overlooked. It seems now that the 
time is not far distant when the wrong 
is to be properly rebuked and redressed. 
The native-born citizens of the United 
States are anxious to call their country 
New Ireland, making New York the 
capital, to be known as New Cork. The 
only objection to this measure seems to 
come from the German population, who 
insist that it is premature, and that such 
a change ought not to be made for at 
least ten years. The Teutons argue that 
the Irish now in the country have re- 
ceived many favors already — in short, 
that the Americans have little left to 
bestow, that the few people of the Irish 
nation .still in Ireland contemplate em- 
igrating ; and that the intended honor 
should be postponed until they arrive, 
have been provided with office, and 
placed in position to accept and enjoy 
the compliment with those already here. 

The Banshee is one of the supersti- 
tions of the Irish. It closely resembles 
the Keen, and, like that mournful cere- 
mony, is accompanied by clapping of 
hands and every indication of frautic 
sorrow and extreme distress : it usually 
comes to the terrified listener from some 
lonely hill, river bank, or some darkly 
shaded and gloomy valley. It is the voice 
of an invisible being, which announces to 
the hearer the approaching death of 
some member of his family. It has been 
said that, on the d^ath of a hero, the 



harps of his bards emitted sounds of 
mourning — nor is this strange. The harp 
of an Italian musician would do the same 
now were it hung on the willows exposed 
to the passing winds as the harps of the 
Irish bards were when the hero died. 

The Bodach Glas, or gray spectre, 
warned Yich Yan Yohr on the eve of 
battle, that his doom was sealed. We 
are not sure that either of the spirits 
mentioned have-emigrated to America, 
but we know that spirits are common in 
the latter country, and that the destruc- 
tion of him who tarries or tampers with 
them is near. They are often seen just 
before an election, and are supposed to 
influence and, to some extent, control the 
result. The Banshee prefers gloom. One 
who has seen and heard the dreaded vis- 
ion, speaks of it and the time, as follows : 

'Twas midnight, not a single star 
Shone in the sky, but from afar, 
The lightning threw a lurid glare, 
And sulphurous odors filled the air, 
I heard the chilly night-winds moan, 

And sounds like wailing, then a sigh, 
And ever and anon a groan, 

Or restless spirits flitted by, 
For graves had let their tenants out, 
And ghosts went wandering about, 
Jibbering, squeaking, 
Muttering, shrieking. 
Evil spirits kept their revels, 
'Twas a festive night for devils. 

We are told that Satan once appeared 
in New York, and summoned a number 
of city officials, inspectors of elections, 
canvassers, and others, for a consultation. 
The King of Hell seemed anxious to 
meet as many of his friends as possible, 
and sent out infernal messengers (so it 
appeared to the wretch who saw all these 
things), who flew about shrieking : 

Up crime, 

"Tis harvest time. 
We have deeds of dishonor and falsehood 

to do, 
Come forth then, ye dog-fighting, rat-killing 

crew, 



12 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE f^ORLD OVER. 



From the pestilence pens, 

And the crime-breeding dens 

Of the sin-accursed city. 

Come ye out, come ye out, 

With your blood-chilling shout, 
And with hearts that are strangers to pity. 
Then the darkness of night was lit up by 

the glare 
Of homes all in flames, and wild shouts of 

despair 
With blasphemies mingled, and freighted the 

air. 

And we are further informed that 
these things were only the forerunners 
of dire distress, for 

That blood-drinking monster, the mob, 

Come out of his lair to kill, ravish, and rob. 

Up and down through the town 

On the darkness he rode, 

Stabbing, burning, howling, shrieking, 

Steeped in murder foul and reeking, 

With the warm blood of the slain. 

Dismay and wild confusion reigned ; 
crime laughed at the law ; and the tiger 
that lurks in the breast of man, assert- 
ing its supremacy for a time — they 
roamed about in packs like wild beasts, 
while Satan chuckled, and his couriers 
kept up the cry, 

Rally, rally once again, 

Ring the bell, 

Summon hell, 

Imp and devil, 

With us revel — 

We a carnival will keep, 

Rum is plenty, blood is cheap, 

We have shown how the Blarney-stone 
was left by certain descendants of the 
Greeks on the banks of Killarney ; but 
it was not destined to remain there 
long ; the Mac Carthys saw it, and at 
once appropriated it to their own use. 
They were about to build a castle at a 
place about four miles from Cork, and 
determined that the magic stone should 
form a part of the castle wall. It is even 
said that the fairies, with whom the Mac 
Carthys were on good terms, undertook 
to transport it to the place selected as a 



I site for the building. For several gen- 
erations it remained in the wall of Blar- 
ney Castle, so placed, that he who de- 
sired to kiss it, had no other way but to be 
held by the heels over the parapet, and 
his safety depended much upon his own 
weight, and the grip of the Irishman who 
held him. Ladies found it inconvenient 
to kiss it. There are those who imagine 
that the Blarney-stone still forms a part 
of the castle wall, but they are much 
mistaken ; for it now occupies a place 
in the wall of the New York County 
Court House. The expense of removing 
it from Ireland and locating it where it 
now is, has been very heavy. The most 
captious tax-payer makes no complaint, 
but considers any amount well expended, 
which secures to New York the Blarney- 
stone. At the completion of the Court 
House, it will be unveiled, when the tax- 
payer, in return for his money, will be 
allowed to kiss it long and earnestly. 
Impudence is said to follow a dip in the 
river Shannon. The river is not at all 
needed in America, but the people are 
willing to buy and move it over. Cer- 
tain engineering difficulties have de- 
terred them so far, and it seems they 
must content themselves with the Blar- 
ney-stone for the present. The removal 
of the Shannon will not be undertaken 
until the work on hand has been disposed 
of, and that will occupy the time and 
absorb the revenue for twenty years to 
come. 

The custom of creating offices so that 
all suitable persons in the community 
may hold one or more, is an ancient one. 
In the Red Book of " The Exchequer " 
of the King of England, in Dublin, 
among the officers named are three 
judges, the sheriff, the clerk, and the 
Second Remembrancer, Clerk of the 
Pipe, Marshall of the Exchequer, and 
the Crier. Why the Board of Alder- 
man, of New York, have deferred ap- 



HIBERNIA ; OB, IBELANB THE WOBLB VEB. 



73 



pointing a Clerk of the Pipe, to this late 
day, is a mystery. 

In the year 1327, the Butler family 
appeared prominent in Irish history. 
Since then, different members of the 
family have figured in public matters, 
and to such an extent, as to keep the 
name before the people. The only 
Irishman of that name now at all dis- 
tinguished, has moved to America, and 
figures in Massachusetts as a states- 
man. He maintains a high position in 
his adopted country, though some un- 
pleasant things have been said about 
him. The fact is, he has been sorely per- 
secuted and abused, simply because he is 
an Irishman. 

One Edmund Burke drowned another 
of the same name, whereupon each 
family improved every opportunity to 
murder. Turlough O'Connor married 
Burke's widow, and put away his own 
lawful wife. Dermod, the heir of Mac 
Carthy Moore, was killed as he sat with 
the judge on the bench — and on the whole 
Irish history reads like a New York 
morning paper, except that we get no 
account of the coroner's inquests, nor do 
we hear anything of the plea of tempo- 
rary insanity. 

The haughty English seemed determ- 
ined upon the extermination of the Irish, 
and sought every way to irritate and de- 
grade them. They exhibited their ^hatred 
and contempt openly, differing greatly 
from the New York political leader, who 
is careful to smile most affectionately 
upon the Irish in public, while it is well 
known that they ridicule and despise 
them in private. The amount of bath- 
ing, combing, and perfuming which the 
Sachems make use of after a convention 
or torchlight procession, is astonishing. 
"But it is an ill wind that blows no- 
body good," and this state of affairs is 
very encouraging to the manufacturers 
of combs, scrubbing brushes, and soap. 



A distinguished citizen has accumulated 
vast wealth by inventing perfumes, de- 
odorizers, and disinfectants for the fas- 
tidious persons referred to. 

Important events in Ireland have, in 
almost every instance, been foretold by 
the prophets, or a warning notice given 
of their approach. This mode of en- 
lightening the people on the subject of 
the future, has also been transferred to 
New York. Strange noises, shrieks, howl- 
ings and curses, have been heard at mid- 
night. In a few instances the authorities 
have investigated the cause, and found 
that there was nothing supernatural in 
the sounds. Once they discovered and 
broke up a dog fight which was in pro- 
gress in a subterranean amphitheatre ; 
upon another occasion they arrived iu 
time to save the life of a Chinaman, 
whose wife, an Irishwoman, he had pro- 
voked into a state of Hibernian excite- 
ment, and who was trying to cut her 
way through a number of quilts and 
blankets, in order to get at the object 
of her wrath, who lay beneath — but the 
mystery of the strange sounds has been 
solved only in a few instances. 

The liver-colored statue of Washing- 
ton, which had for many years stood 
in front of the City Hall, apparently 
watching the change which is to substi- 
tute the Irish for the American, in all 
public matters, has suddenly disappear- ' 
ed, and it is confidently expected, that 
the statue of St. Patrick will come in to 
fill the vacancy — nor is this all, as in an- 
cient Rome, asses and other cattle have 
spoken in the public places, so that we 
conclude that the prosperity of New 
York cannot continue, unless errors in 
the management of affairs are at once 
corrected. And first, the name of the 
metropolis, as we have already indicated, 
should be changed to New Cork. All 
laws which impede or restrain politicians, 
or limit their influence at the polls, or 



74 



HIBERNIA ; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD VER. 



after the polls have been closed, and 
during the counting of the votes, must 
be repealed ; also all laws which threaten 
officers of the election, such as inspec- 
tors, canvassers, and others, with penal- 
ties. Under all circumstances they must 
be left to be governed by their con- 
sciences, and such suggestions as they 
may get from the leaders of the party in 
power. The few native-born citizens now 
in office must retire to private life, for 
they are now obstacles in the way of un- 
trammelled Irish rule. All that is left of 
the excise law must be expunged from the 
statute-book, so thoroughly, that future 
generations shall not know that a law so 
oppressive ever disgraced American legis- 
lation. Sunday must be a free day ; the 
bible must be swept from the public 
schools ; the school funds must be divided, 
and all laws which prohibit a man from 
selling his vote, his oath, his influence, 
or any other property he may possess, 
must give way to the enterprising spirit 
of the age. Such reforms as these may 
save New York, if immediately adopted. 
A gloomy foreboding of coming sorrow 
seems to pervade the community. Some 
time since the public astronomer, through 
his telescope in the City Hall Park, dis- 
covered spots ou the sun ; a newsboy, in 
the act of turning a double somersault, 
broke his neck ; a Third avenue street- 
car horse fell and died without a moan ; 
but more terrible than all, an owl ap- 
peared in the park in front of the City 
Hall, and another in a church-yard near, 
where it sat, mournfully overlooking the 
graves of the departed. This happened 
in autumn, when the leaves were falling 
and sounds of sadness floated in the air. 
The first owl was killed by a man in a 
white hat, so that we are sure we know 
who it was, for there is but one man in 
New York who wears a white hat in 
November. The fact that he laid aside 
his editorial labors and went out owl 



shooting, is of itself a fearful omen, and 
shows that the best men of the land are 
more or less affected by a sudden demor- 
alization. The graveyard owl was killed 
in the presence of an immense concourse 
of people, by a prominent and much es 
teemed citizen and member of the church, 
whose domains had been invaded. The 
grateful people wanted to make him col- 
onel of a regiment, a compliment which 
he modestly declined, on the ground that 
such honors had fallen into disrepute. 
The graveyard owl was a gloomy bird, 
with a sepulchral voice — but the bird of 
the City Hall, killed, alas ! by the man 
in the white hat, was so sprightly and 
gay, and had such a jolly look, that 
many regretted his death, and there is 
no doubt that if he had been hung, in- 
stead of shot, he would have had a large 
funeral ; the people sorrowed, for they 
missed 

THE SONG OF THE OWL. 

Away, away, with the gairish day, 

And the sunlight's burning glare, 
And give me the night, when the stars are 
bright, 
When borne on the dew-damp air. 
Comes floating to me the well-known cry 
Of my lonely mate from her perch on high. 
Sadly she murmurs, I wait for you, 
And I answer her back, too-hoo, too-hoo. 
Too-hoo, too-hoo, 
I come to you — 
Pride of the night, 
I come to you. 

When the light of the day fast fades away, 

And the sjnadows are growing long, 
And the stars comes out then I peer about, 

And wait for the nightly song 
Of my loving mate, for I know that she 
From the hollow oak will call to me, 
" Come, come, ' ' she will say, " for I wait for 

you," 

Then away I'll fly with my loud too-hoo. 
Too-hoo, too-hoo, 
I come to you — 
Pride of the night, 
I come to you. 



EIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND TEE WORLD OVER. 



75 



The fool may say that the sunny day, 

Hath many a charm for him, 
But give me the night, when lovers plight 

Their vows by the starlight dim. 
When the song is loud, and the wine flows 

• free, 
And I hear my mate from her lonely tree, 
Sadly sighing, I wait for you, 
And I answer her back, too-hoo, too-hoo. 
Too-hoo, too-hoo, 
I come to you, 
Pride of the night, 
I come to you. 

The owls have come, and unless the 
natives learn to submit to and be gov- 
erned by that profound wisdom and 
statesmanship which comes from Ire- 
land, the bats will soon follow. The 
handwriting is upon the wall — read it 
and tremble : 

Hey-diddle-diddle, my railroad stock 

Yields not a single groat, 

For the money all goes 

To redden the nose 

Of a man in a velvet coat. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

A new Viceroy — The Statute of Kilkenny — Crys- 
tede and Costeree — The Clarecaune — Curious 
Expressions — The Spectre of the Graveyard — 
The Fatal Promise — The Death Kiss — Thomas, 
Duke of Lancaster — Pay-rolls— The Nominal 
Office Holders—" The Chair Polishers "—They 
form a Target Company — The term " Going 
through Things," illustrated— Civil Service — 
It is successfully opposed — A Senatorial Con- 
cert — " Villikens and his Dinah" — Scene in 
the United States Senate Chamber— A highly- 
mural Exhibition— Trouble with Mr. O'Neil — 
Sir John Stanley— He is rhymed to death by 
the poet, Niall O'Higgin— An honorable Am- 
bition. 

Lionel, the third son of Edward III., 
was appointed Viceroy of Ireland in the 
year 1360. It was during his adminis- 
tration that the famous "Statute of 
Kilkenny" was enacted. Some of its 
provisions exhibit that want of esteem 
for the Irish people which has charac- 



terized the conduct of the haughty Briton 
for centuries. It provided that au alli- 
ance with the Irish, by " marriage, nur- 
ture of infants, or standing sponsors," 
should be punishable as high treason. 
That any Englishman taking an Irish 
name, or having the Irish language, ap- 
parel, or customs, should forfeit all his 
lands. To adopt or submit to the Bre- 
hon law was treason. The English 
were required to obtain the consent of 
their government to make war upou the 
Irish, and were not to permit the Irish 
to graze or pasture upon their lands, nor 
hold any church office ; and they were 
specially prohibited from entertaining 
Irish minstrels, or rhymers — but the 
great Lords were restrained from oppres- 
sing gentlemen and freeholders, though it 
does not appear that any one below that 
grade were thus protected. The story 
of Crystede and Costeree illustrates the 
hospitality of the Irish. Crystede was 
mounted on the horse of his master, the 
Earl of Ormonde, which became unman- 
ageable, and bore him into the ranks of 
the enemy. Costeree, by a dexterous 
movement, mounted behind Crystede, 
and bore him away a prisoner. Crystede 
lived seven years in the house of his 
captor, and married his daughter, by 
whom he had two children. Afterwards 
Costeree was taken prisoner, and the 
captured horse recognized by the Eng- 
lish. He was required to produce Crys- 
tede, which he did with much reluctauce, 
on account of his daughter and her 
children, after which Crystede settled iu 
Bristol, where his two daughters married. 
To learn any thing more of the Costeree 
or Crystede family, the reader must in- 
quire in New York. 

The Irish have a superstition of the 
Clarecaune, which is curious, and worthy 
of note. In appearance it is said to 
represent an old and diminutive French- 
man ; his occupation is well known, for 



76 



EIBERN1A; OR, IRELAND TEE WORLD OVER. 



he is, when seen, always making or re- 
pairing shoes. He is a fairy, in the 
estimation of the people, who believe 
that he is well acquainted with the places 
where great treasures lie hidden. To get 
from him the information necessary to a 
discovery of the gold, one must advance 
upon him stealthily, keeping the eye fixed 
upon him, and watching the favorable 
moment to seize him, when, to secure his 
release, he will reveal all that he knows ; 
he will make every promise his' ingenuity 
can invent, and strive to distract the 
attention of his captor, who must not be 
amused or deceived by him, nor withdraw 
his eye, or he will vanish instantly. 

The Irish make great efforts to capture 
the strange being, and become almost 
as cunning in their efforts to secure him 
as he is in his, to evade them. This is 
one reason why the Irish make the best 
police officers in the world, a fact which 
was long ago discovered in America, 
and which has resulted in the employ- 
ment of Irishmen exclusively for that 
duty in all the American cities. 

It is not regarded as pleasant to be 
arrested. Very few persons enjoy an 
adventure which culminates in being led 
to the station-house, and a bed in a cell 
under lock and key — but if such things 
must happen, how pleasant it is to be 
taken by an experienced officer, who, 
having passed much of his life hunting 
and capturing Clarecaune, is able to 
take you suddenly, convey you expedi- 
tiously, and lock you up securely. It is 
also pleasant to meet an Irish judge in 
the morning, to be sentenced by one who 
displays the rich brogue of Kilkenny, 
and to then be sent back to an Irish 
jailor, who is willing to alleviate the 
annoyances and privations of prison life, 
at the rate of from fifteen to fifty dol- 
lars per week. Woe to the poor wretch 
who has no money — the criminal must be 
punished. 



We give, under the impression that it 
will interest the reader, some of the 
funeral expressions used by the Irish 
peasantry, if, indeed, there is any such 
class in Ireland : " What a purty corpse." 
" How well she becomes death." " You 
would not meet a purtiur corpse of a 
summer's day." " She bears the change 
well." There is a strange superstition 
of a churchyard in the county Mon- 
aghau. A spirit, is said to reside there, 
which appears to families who have re- 
lations there buried. The person who, 
at a funeral, lingers last at the grave, 
if a man, will see a beautiful female, who 
inspires him with a charmed passion. 
She requires of him a promise that he 
will meet her one mouth from that day, 
which promise is always sealed with a 
kiss. If the loiterer is a female, the 
spectre takes the shape of a young man 
of most fascinating appearance, who ex- 
acts the promise and gives the kiss just 
alluded to. It then disappears, and the 
deluded one no sooner quits the church- 
yard, than the story of the spectre is 
remembered, when he sinks into despair 
and dies. The spirit has been known 
to appear at weddings, and dances, and 
from among the joyous and the gay, 
select its victims. The graveyard kiss 
taints the system, and death is sure to 
follow. How firmly the people believe 
this strange story, may' be inferred from 
the fact that they show the graves of 
persons who have died in the manner 
referred to. Not long since a man de- 
clared that he had given the fatal prom- 
ise and indulged in the ghostly kiss, and 
sure enough he died on the day when, 
according to his own statement, the 
contract was to be fulfilled. Such spirits 
are seen flitting about in America. Night 
is their favorite season, and woe to the 
victim who gives them a promise, or lin- 
gers for a kiss. The promise, if kept, 
is destruction : the kiss kills. 



EIBERKIA; OR, IRELAND TEE WORLD OVER. 



77 



In the year 1402, Thomas, Duke of 
Lancaster, was sent by his father, Henry 
IV., Viceroy to Ireland. He was only 
twelve years old, and though a council 
was appointed to manage Irish affairs, 
he drew the pay and enjoyed the emol- 
uments of the office. The hint conveyed 
by this circumstance has been frequently 
acted upon in America. The leading men 
find it convenient to put on the pay-rolls 
a long list of names, comprising such of 
their relatives as are averse to active 
industry — in short, a man who wields a 
moderate amount of political influence, 
is able, unless he has a family unreason- 
ably large, to provide for them all. As 
a general rule, these people do not " wear 
camel's hair girded about their loins,'' 
nor do they eat " locusts and wild honey." 
Snipe on toast, broiled quail, truffled tur- 
key, soft-shell crabs in season, Shrews- 
bury oysters, venison and jelly, and such 
homely articles of diet, washed down with 
sparkling champagne, serve to keep body 
and soul together, while these victims of 
public confidence and esteem toil on from 
year to year, oppressed by an overwhelm- 
ing weight of labor and responsibility. 

One of those historians who delight 
to misrepresent the Irish people, no 
doubt a Briton, has complained of a class 
of men who occupy and move restlessly 
about in expensive chairs in the different 
public offices, and has gone so far as to 
call them " chair polishers." It seems, 
from the account we have of them, that 
their only duty is to sign their names to 
a receipt for their wages at the end of 
the month — a most difficult matter in 
many cases. A more liberal sentiment 
would allow the class of persons referred 
to, to make their mark, and thus avoid 
the labor of a partially successful effort 
only to sign their names in full ; but 
prejudice, injustice, and American ingrat- 
itude will, no doubt, continue to urge 
chat the man who draws the salary of a 



clerk shall be competent to affix his 
name to the pay-roll. These men have 
formed themselves into a target company, 
the most efficient iu the United States. 
When they surround the house of a prom- 
inent citizen, and one who understands 
their customs, he at once invites them 
to send a committee of their number 
through his house, giving them full lib- 
erty to appropriate to their own use any- 
thing which they may happeu to fancy. 
As there is no way of resisting or refus- 
ing these patriots, the best plan, of 
course, is to yield gracefully, which the 
experienced never fail to do. " Going 
through a man " is an expression well 
uuderst ood in New York, and originated 
with this, well-known class. A strange, 
wild theory took possession of the minds 
of a few Americans, and they put forward 
a plan to secure skillful and competent 
men in the public employment. They 
talked plausibly of the "civil service," 
but their theories were soon unravelled, 
their sophistries exposed, and their ar- 
guments refuted. 

One of the strongest reasons preseuted 
in opposition to the new doctrine, was 
that it abolished honorary clerkships, 
"and furnished money out of the treas- 
ury, as wages, only to such as rendered 
a fair equivalent for the amount so re- 
ceived." It was seen at once that public 
men would lose their patronage, " ward 
leaders " and agitators would be com- 
pelled to seek some legitimate employ- 
ment, and our glorious political system 
would be undermined and thrown down. 
It was an assault upon the free institu- 
tions of America. Patriots everywhere 
condemned as a dangerous man, him 
who proposed this radical change. The 
only distinction secured by the would- 
be reformer, was to have his effort 
commemorated in the verses of an un- 
known poet, which were sung in the 
United States Senate Chamber, by a 



78 



EIBERN1A; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



member of that dignified body, to the | He shall go on the shelf, and no power can 
tune of "Yillikens and his Dinah," 



eliciting unbounded applause. The song 
ran as follows, and was called 

CIVIL SERVICE. 

I sing of a statesman, both able and great ; 
Take warning, dear friends, from his terrible 

fate. 
The people all called him a wonderful man, 
And gave him their votes when for office he 

ran. 
Too ral lal, too ral lal, too ral lal la. 

But soon a strange crotchet got into his head. 
He saw how the tax-paying people were bled 
By "Buffers" and " Bullies, " and all sorts 

of trash, 
Who loved the dear people, but stole all 

their cash. 

Too ral lal, etc. 

And he wanted a law which a few did applaud. 
It was all about lazy officials and fraud, 
And aimed at the loungers, who, day after 

day, 
Take cash from our coffers and call it their 4 

pay. 

Too ral lal, etc. 

Then the Congressmen set up a hullabaloo, 
And, said they, " Innovations like this will 

not do ; 
Our uncles and cousins we cannot appoint, 
And all our nice plans will be knocked out of 

joint." 

Too ral lal, etc. 

They threatened and coaxed the fanatical 

man ; 
But, said he, "I will make it a law if I can. ' ' 
And they answered, " "We'll see that your 

bill does not pass," 
And they said to his face that they thought 

him — an ass. 

Too ral lal, etc. 

Here the venerable Senator from Ken- 
tucky rose to make a speech. Intent 
upon being heard, it was no easy matter 
to quiet him ; but he yielded, at last, to 
the Sergeant-at-Arms — and the vocal 
Senator resumed : 

Their arguments proved but a waste of their 

breath ; 
Then said they, "Civil Service shall yet be 

his death. 



We'll bury him in his political grave.'' 
Too ral lal. etc. 

The President applied fire to his cigar, 
the songster decorously waiting for him 
to do so. 

So he went to his bed, on a very dark night, 
And he turned off the gas, when an object, 

all white, 
Appeared ; and it scowled in a terrible way, 
And acted as though it had something to 6ay. 
Too ral lal, etc. 

The Massachusetts Member came for- 
ward with "Shoo Fly," but was subju- 
gated, amid cries of " Put him out," and 
" Down in front," accompanied with cat- 
calls, crowings, imitations of the dog, 
the goat, the calf, and other animals, 
until the Senate Chamber might easily 
have been taken for the lower house in 
session. The Sergeant-at-Arms, expos- 
tulating with the Senators, begged them 
not to disturb the member entitled to 
be heard, and went on to notify such of 
them as were violating the rules of the 
Senate by interrupting the vocalist, that 
they must desist. Then the President 
lit a cigar, and the concert went on. 

"Oh! who can this be?" the scared Con- 
gressman said, 

Then he took off his night-cap and sat up in 
bed; 

And said he, " 'Tis some anxious old fellow, 
I'll bet, 

Who wants his young hopeful appointed 
cadet." 

Too ral lal, etc. 

But the ghost did not speak, but kept looking 

around — 
At last, on the wash-stand, a tumbler he 

found ; 
And then from a bottle he poured out a drink, 
Which made the poor Congressman tremble 

and shrink. 

Too ral lal, etc. 

For he "Civil Service" on the label did see, 
And he shrieked, ' ' Is that ' pisen ' intended 
for me ? ' ' 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



79 



And the ghost nodded ' ' Yes, ' ' with a horrible 

grin, 
"So open your mouth, now, and take it all 

in." 

Too ral lal, etc. 

At this point a number of Senators 
became visibly affected and shed tears. 

And he swallowed the dose, like a good little 

man — 
Said the ghost, " Be elected again if you can." 
Then he stretched himself out, and he looked 

very pale, 
And soon he was cold and as stiff as a rail. 
Too ral lal, etc. 

The close of the song was greeted with 
that earnest, but silent, applause which 
is so encouraging to the performer. 
The President lit a cigar. 

It was truly a " moral entertainment," 
and, at its close, the company left the 
Senate Chamber feeling that their 
thoughts had been purified, and that 
they had been instructed as well as 
amused. 

In 1412 the O'Neill's broke into revolt, 
and blood again flowed freely. Sir John 
Stanley was appointed Lord Deputy by 
Henry V., and treated the Irish with 
great cruelty — but a day of retribution 
was at hand. Irish history informs us 
that he was " rhymed to death " by the 
poet, Niall O'Higgin, of Usnagh. We 
are not able to say just what kind of a 
death Sir John Stanley died. To be 
" rhymed to death " may be painful, and 
may not — and here we are seized with a 
new ambition. 

We are a patriot ; so bring together 
all the wretches who infest the public 
offices, cull them out from among the 
honest and faithful servants of the peo- 
ple, and we will undertake to rhyme 
them to death. It may prove painful 
to the rhymed, but it will be soon over, 
and the tax-payers will be relieved of a 
grievous burden — and, when we have 
done this, wait till we die and build us a 
statue. 



CHAPTER XV. 

The Pains and Pleasures of the Historian— Love 
Scenes— Song of the Chieftain's Daughter- 
Nursery Rhymes— The Earl of March— The 
Plague again — Lord Furnival's trick— Irish 
Chieftians Captured— O'Neill Released— Mac 
Murrough released from the Tower — The 
Tower and Ludlow Jail regulations the same 
— Crime Punished — Man's selfishness — His 
disposition to oppress — The Wail of the Cash 
Boy — Irish forces in reserve — The Sleepers — 
Another Plague — Seven Hundred Priests car- 
ried off— Finola enters a Monastery — The Moth- 
er of Finola — She feeds the Bohemians— His- 
torians, Poets, Reporters eat heartily — Den- 
nis O'Toole recites " Dublin on the Liffey " — 
Michael Gillooly composes and sings a Song — 
Applause— Envy of O'Toole — Fight and Con- 
fusion — Poets in the Station-house — Acquitted 
— Law against Mustachios — The Rose of 
Raby — Jack Cade — Butler — Simnel and Perkin 
Warbeck— Hymn " From Erin in the Ocean." 

It is the duty of the historian, to re- 
cord events as they have transpired, even 
though they be deeds of blood and sor- 
row ; but when the truth will permit, he 
turns with joy to brighter scenes, and 
records with a happy heart, and a will- 
ing peu, all that love, and kindness, and 
charity have placed within his reach. In 
spite of murders most foul, bloody dissen- 
sions, and destructive wars, lovers sang 
and sighed even as in our day. Twi- 
light musings, moonlight strolls, plight- 
ed vows, and lovers oaths were as com- 
mon then as now. Often did the Irish 
maiden linger by her lover's side until 
the waning moon told her how swiftly 
the hours had flown. The following 
song, composed by the beautiful daughter 
of a chieftain of the Hy Nials, tends to 
verify what we are saying, and breaking 
in upon the gloomy history of the times, 
like a ray of sun-light, tells us that in 
those days, too, there were longings, lin- 
gerings, whisperings, and flutterings of 
the heart. 

Kiss me, love, and leave me ; 

You must go, for now 'tis late ; 
And the nightingale is singing, 

Sadly, good night to his mate. 



80 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



But remember me to-morrow, 
When the dew begins to fall, 

And fly — yes, fly to meet me, 
When you hear the cuckoo's call. 

But stay, love, do not leave me — 

How the fleeting moments glide, 
And alas ! I'm so unhappy, 

When you wander from my side. 
But to-morrow, when the zephyrs, 

Whisper softly through the glen, 
And the stars are beaming brightly, 

Kiss me now, and meet then. 

Such songs and scenes were often fol- 
lowed by the marriage of the parties, 
and then came domestic cares and nur- 
sery rhymes, such as — 

The cat on the fiddle, 

Played hey-diddle-diddle. 
The fop of the town 

Parts his hair in the middle, 
And when he comes out, 

In his pantaloons tight, 
The little dogs laugh 

At the wonderful sight. 

The Earl of March, Edward Morti- 
mer, assumed the government of Ireland 
in the year 1425, but died the next year, 
of the plague. Lord Furnival captured 
by a trick, and detained as prisoners, 
a number of the northern chieftains, who 
were endeavoring to arrange a peace 
with Mortimer at the time of his death. 

The act was regarded as perfidious, 
and stirred the rage of the Irish into a 
fury. It was thought advisable to re- 
lease O'Neil upon a ransom, and Don- 
nough Mac Murrough was released 
from the Tower in 1428, after an im- 
prisonment of nine years. We have 
reason to believe that the place of cap- 
tivity in New York City, known as Lud- 
low Street Jail, is conducted much as 
the tower was four hundred years ago. 
The custom of making prisoners com- 
fortable or uncomfortable, just accord- 
ing to their ability to fee the jailor, is 
so ancient, as to cause it to be regarded 
as a law of the land, having existed 



" from time whereof the memory of man 
runneth not to the contrary ;" nor does 
the mind or memory of man take cog- 
nizance of any limit to the amount which 
the jailor may exact in this way from 
the man whose liberty it has become 
necessary to circumscribe for the gen- 
eral welfare of the public. It has been 
argued by some, that special pains should 
be taken to punish murderers, and such 
evil-disposed persons, as appropriate, with 
felonious intent, to their own use, the 
property of others. But we can but 
admire the justice of the laws, and the 
wisdom of those who administer them, 
when they disregard such trivial irregu- 
larities, and bring the whole power of 
the State to bear upon the criminals 
who neglect to pay their debts. The 
removal of a man from time to time from 
a city or town, already crowded to over- 
flowing, cannot be regarded as a great 
calamity ; but the man who neglects 
to pay his debts, deranges the finances, 
obstructs trade, and interferes with the 
general prosperity of the community in 
which he lives. If convenient, the first- 
named class of offenders should be some- 
what punished ; the latter should in no 
instance be allowed to escape such a 
chastisement as will insure a prompt 
payment of their debts ever thereafter, 
and, at the same time, strike awe into 
the hearts of all persons of limited means. 
At all events, such are the sentiments 
which seem to control the authorities in 
their efforts to enforce the law. 

The prison known as Ludlow Street 
Jail is not all gloom, darkness, and sor- 
row. The doomed man may sink and 
falter as he hears the door close behind 
him, and realizes that the key has 
performed its office ; but, as he steps 
forward from the vestibule, and in the 
first room he enters, he finds himself sur- 
rounded by beaming, sympathizing faces 
— for the walls are covered with portraits. 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



81 



We cannot explain why the people's 
idols, the purest and best of men, the 
representatives of law and order, and 
the guardians of the treasury, should 
occupy such a position ; but there they 
are, and the bewildered, but delighted 
prisoner, can almost fancy he is enter- 
ing the City Hall, to accept an office, 
instead of being a doomed criminal. 

The question is often asked, what do 
those pictures of governors, commission- 
ers, comptrollers, chiefs of departments, 
and ex-sheriffs mean, displayed, as they 
are, at the entrance of a prision ? We 
are told that the law demanded that the 
parties occupy the prison in person, but 
that a compromise was -effected, by the 
terms of which they were allowed to 
send their portraits, to be hung behind 
the bars. Such are the advantages of 
being influential. 

The history of Ireland teaches us that 
man is indifferent and careless on the 
subject of human happiness. We learn 
from it that he is more engaged in mat- 
ters pertaining to his own immediate 
welfare, and more devoted to such meas- 
ures as are calculated to secure his own 
aggrandizement and prosperity, than to 
such as are intended for the public good. 
He seems to care little what happens, 
so that it does not happen to him, and 
passes through the world overlooking 
daily opportunities to lighten the load 
of a fellow-being, and make life for him 
a little more endurable. It was so when 
the Greek maidens landed in Ireland, 
and when St. Patrick was taken there 
a slave ; it continued to be the case down 
to the time of Strongbow. Mac Mur- 
rough, a captive in the tower, felt keenly 
the truth we have here recorded. These 
remarks apply to Scotch-Irish, Irish- 
Scotch, Irish-American, and American- 
Irish, and such insignificant remnant of 
mankind as may not be included in the 
above classification. The pale, anxious 



faces, care-worn, toil-worn, and dejected ; 
the children in the streets already bat- 
tling for an existence, crushed and dis- 
couraged ; women, heart-broken and 
dying — all these are witnesses to the fact. 
The pleading faces of the little cash boys, 
in the vast palaces of the merchant 
princes, bear sad testimony in our favor, 
deprived, as they are, of the bright sun- 
light, the blue sky, the hills, the fields, 
the birds, and the flowers. A hasty 
breakfast at an early hour, and too often 
a scanty one, a rapid walk to his prison 
house, and there a day of toil, and worse 
than all to the boyish heart, a crushing 
confinement. Such is his lot. The sun 
shines for him through blue curtains 
that dispense an odor of brimstone ; his 
flowers are such as are figured on the 
goods offered for sale. Then comes the 
floor walker, with stern looks, and all 
sorts of words, but kind words, who sel- 
dom realizes that the little pale faced 
creatures around him are mere children 
doomed to toil from the very commence- 
ment of life, and seems to look at them 
for no other purpose but to discover 
some fault. One is too slow, another 
inattentive, still another comes too late, 
and another unfortunate stays too long 
at dinner — ten minutes, when five is the 
rule — and for these crimes they are dis- 
missed, and told to go into the street, 
and they leave with tearful eyes and 
quivering lips, for they know that hunger 
lies in wait for them. Such as are not 
convicted, continue their toil — and who 
has not heard, in one form or another, 

THE WAIL OF THE CASH BOY. 

Oh, for a ramble among the hills, 

Or a stroll where the fields are fresh and fair, 

I sigh for the song of the dancing rills, 
For the forest grand, and the mountain air. 

They tell me that far from the noise and din, 
Of the dusty city, that rivers flow, 

And that when the moon comes up a#night, 
The rippling wavelets flash and glow. 



82 



HIBERNIA; OB, IBELAND THE WOBLB OVER- 



They tell me, too, of the golden grain, 
Of grazing cattle and waving corn, 

Of flocks that feed on the verdant plain, 
Of the eagle's scream and the hunter's horn. 

But I must toil through the live-long day, 
Till the world seems gloomy and dark and 
cold, 
I must earn my bread, or must starve, they 
say, 
And just think, I am only ten years old. 

Why do they scowl when I pass them by ? 

Why do they hurry me up and down ? 
They bring a tear to my childish eye, 

I am sure they see it, and yet they frown. 

I was five years old when my father died — 
Just think of it, friends, only five years old, 

And I remember how hard I tried 
To win a smile from his features cold. 

He loved me well ; at the close of day 
I laughed and prattled upon his knee, 

And he would join in my childish play, 
And fondly share in my childish glee. 

Oh. for a ramble among the hills, 
A stroll where the fields are fresh and fair, 

I sigh for the song of the dancing rills. 
The forest grand, and the mountain air. 

The time is coming when, in addition 
to the Fenians, the Irish will have strong 
forces to aid them in their efforts to lib- 
erate their native land. According to 
an old legend, there are squadrons which 
have not been taken into account, but 
which are, nevertheless, held in reserve. 
A legend well known to the people of 
Innishowen, informs us that the cave of 
Aileach is occupied by a troop of Hugh 
O'Neill's cavalry, who lie in a magic sleep 
from which they are certain to wake at 
the proper time. Some years ago a man 
wandered into the cave, and found the 
troop armed to the teeth, their bridles 
in their hands, and all fast asleep ; one of 
them, roused by the intrusion, raised his 
head and asked if it was time, but the 
interrogated left, filled with terror, and 
without giving an answer ; so that the 
inquiring trooper is probably in doubt 
to this day, and does not know whether 



it is time or not. The legend goes on 
to say, that when the time does come, 
they will rush to the rescue of Ireland. 

We can almost predict what the re- 
sult will be. They will fail in their ef- 
fort ; they will be arrested ; they will be 
shut up in English prisons, dark and 
gloomy, and loathsome. " The Presi- 
dent of the United States and all others 
in authority" will intercede for them, 
and they will be liberated, and will sail 
for America. The gushing patriots of 
that happy land will meet them far out 
upon the water — will offer them the pro- 
tection of the American flag, and the 
McGuirks and O'Tooles, leaders of one 
party, will battle with the McGinnesses 
and the Duffys, leaders of the other, for 
the possession of the martyrs. Alas ! 
for the sleeping troopers. 

In the year 1447 a plague desolated 
Ireland ; seven hundred priests were car- 
ried off by the pestilence. Irish histor- 
ians mention that Felim O'Reilly was 
taken prisoner ; they also mention with 
great solemnity that Finola, daughter of 
one O'Connor Faly, a most beautiful and 
stately woman, retired from this vain 
and sinful world, and went into a mon- 
astery. In common with all those who 
eke out a precarious subsistence by the 
use of the pen, we feel much tenderness 
for the mother of the lady just mention- 
ed, for upon two occasions she treated 
the Literati of Ireland to a dinner, 
called in those days a feast. Irish his- 
tory does not furnish us another instance 
where the unfortunate class referred to 
were permitted to enjoy a full meal ; in 
fact, they fared little better in ancient 
times than they do now. They were call- 
ed Brehons and Bards, not Bohemians, 
and collected at the feast in question, 
to the number of twenty-seven hundred. 
It is not recorded that a single one 
invited failed to appear ; on the contrary, 
all were promptly on the spot. Lady 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



83 



Margaret, clothed in cloth of gold, sat 
in queenly state. She opened the cere- 
monies by presenting two massive golden 
chalices, and by adopting to nurse and 
rear, two healthy boy infants, which she 
had, no doubt, found through the adver- 
tisements in some morning paper. The 
ceremony seems to have taken place in a 
church, and her husband remained out- 
side to receive and welcome the guests. 
We have no account of the bill of fare, 
but are led to believe that the table was 
bountifully supplied with everything but 
wine, for which Irish whiskey was substi- 
tuted ; and we believe, though history is 
silent upon this point, that the beverage 
now called punch made its appearance 
there for the first time. 

The feast opened pleasantly ; the usual 
toasts, such as : " The President of the 
United States," "The day we celebrate," 
" Our wives and sweethearts," etc., were 
drank with great enthusiasm. Dennis 
O'Toole recited an original poem entitled 
" Dublin on the Liffey," and an Irish- 
man, named McBillings, presented an 
article on Poultry. The spelling was 
severely criticised. A convivial charac- 
ter, named Michael Gillooly, composed, 
on the spot, the song which follows, and 
sang it to the great satisfaction of Lady 
Margaret and her husband. "Why the 
poet celebrated wine instead of whiskey, 
we are not informed : 

Here's to life and its fleeting dreams, 
Transient pleasures and idle schemes — 
Here's to the struggle for wealth and fame, 
Winner or loser, 'tis much the same. 

We'll pledge to-night, in the rosy wine, 
Who knows that to-morrow the sun will 

shine — 
Then let us gather, as down we glide, 
The flowers that hloom by the river side. 

Why should we murmur while bright ey^s 

beam? 
True, we are drifting down the stream ; 
But love is ours, and its scenes of bliss, 
The smile of beauty and woman's kiss — 
We'll pledge to-night, etc. 



The bell is tolling the years away — 
So here's to Age and his locks of gray, 
And a glass to Time — let him smile or frown, 
Sooner or later he mows us down. 

We'll pledge to-night, etc. 

Fill up to friends, to the old and new, 
We'll drink to the hearts that are tried and 

true ; 
Life at best is a transient state, 
With not a moment to spare for hate. 

We'll pledge to-night, etc. 

O'Toole felt that he had been eclipsed 
by the vocal Gilloolly, for the song of 
the latter was received with unbounded 
applause — and swallowing, almost at a 
single draught, a bowl of the newly-dis- 
covered beverage, he denounced Gillooly, 
and denied that his song was at all com- 
ical. The friends of each interfered, and 
the result was a general engagement, 
during which the tables were upset, and 
a tureen of oyster soup emptied into the 
lap of their generous hostess, greatly dam- 
aging her dress of " cloth of gold." The 
most troublesome of the poets, and a few 
historians, were removed to the station- 
house. Early next morning they were 
taken before a Police Justice, who did 
not feel at all inclined to punish men who 
had simply amused themselves according 
to ancient custom. They were acquitted, 
and, in those days, people were found 
unjust enough to say, that had it not been 
for the fact that an election was at hand, 
they would have been severely punished 
— but that the Justice was a candidate, 
and wanted their votes. 

It was about this time that the first law 
relating to personal appearance was pass- 
ed, and by it the enmity which already 
existed between the Irish and the English 
was aggravated into a bitter hatred. It 
provided that every man who did not 
shave his upper lip should be treated 
as an Irish enemy, and the shaving was 
to be performed at least once every fort- 
night. The Irish people became enraged 
at this infringement upon their rights ; 



84 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



but no considerable number of them were 
able to agree upon a plan to secure re- 
dress, so that their enemies were left to 
enforce the law. The peculiar shape of 
the Irish lip is supposed to be owing to the 
constant pulling, twisting, and shaving to 
which it was subjected under the opera- 
tion of the shameful legislation referred 
to. The obnoxious act might have been 
defeated, if the use of money in legisla- 
tive matters had been as well understood 
at the time of which we write, as now. 

The practice of making presents is an 
Irish custom. Bryan O'Byrne gave two 
hobbies to the " Rose of Raby," wife of 
the Duke of York, which means that he 
presented her two of those famous Irish 
horses which have always been considered 
"good enough for kings." 

One of the most painful facts met 
with in history, is the amount of trouble 
prominent Irishmen have caused, not 
only their own countrymen, but the peo- 
ple of other nations. John Cade, an 
Irishman, known to those with whom he 
was intimate as Jack, was compelled 
by the exigencies of the times to fly to 
France, which country he left for Eng- 
land in the year 1450, and, claiming to be 
a cousin to the Duke of York, assumed 
the name of Mortimer. 

Like an American politician, he espous- 
ed the cause of the people, and soon found 
himself at the head of twenty thousand 
men. Lettei*s passed between Jack and 
Henry the Sixth, with no satisfactory 
result. In a pitched battle he defeated 
the royal troops, and entering London, 
July 1st, ordered to execution two of the 
king's ministers. His troops were at first 
orderly, but soon went back to their old 
habits, for the ranks were filled with re-, 
peaters, canvassers of votes, assistant 
aldermen, and ex-members of the assem- 
bly, who could not be restrained, nor 
could they resist the temptation to pil- 
lage some of the finest houses — which 



they did, claiming the rights and privil- 
eges uf a target company. This arous- 
ed the citizens, who attacked Cade on 
the 5th, and not on the 4th of July. 
He was defeated, his followers deserted 
him, and he fled ; but he was overtaken 
and killed by the remorseless Britons, 
who have been ever ready to shed Irish 
blood. 

In 1450, Butler was elected to take 
charge of Ireland, as deputy viceroy. A 
descendant of this man was once left in 
charge of the Irish City of New York, 
a fact which belongs to Irish history. 
In the " War of the Roses," the Butlers 
took part with the Lancastrians. 

Simnel and Perkin made their appear- 
ance in the reign of Henry the Seventh. 
The Irish may have been deceived by the 
youth, but there were some who were 
willing to make his claim a pretense for 
new commotions. They espoused his 
cause warmly, and he was crowned in 
Ireland, on Whitsunday, the 24th day of 
May, 1421. He was then taken on the 
shoulders of tall Irishmen, among whom 
was one Darcy, and borne to the castle, 
and in time was induced to visit England, 
where he was captured, and made a turn- 
spit in the royal kitchen. 

The following ancient Irish hymn is 
thought to have served as a model for 
verses composed by a distinguished mis- 
sionary bishop, the author of the lines 
commencing " From Greenland's icy 
mountains." 

From Erin in the ocean, 

From Connaught and from Clare, 
From Cork and Carrickfergus, 

From Down and everywhere — 
They crowd the broad Atlantic, 

And gather on the shore, 
While politicians frantic 

With joy still call for more. 

Old men with wrinkled faces, 

And bullet-headed boys, 
Each bearing a shillalah, 

Each wearing corduroys ; 



HIBERNIA ; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD VER. 



85 



And each as he approaches, 
Is taken by the hand, 

And quickly made a voter, 
In freedom's happy land. 

Come, children of St. Patrick, 

No longer let us wait, 
Command our gallant armies, 

Control affairs of state ; 
And every paying office 

The Yankee shall resign — 
All honor, and all profit 

Oh, Irishmen, are thine. 

Waft, waft ye winds the story, 

How Irish statesmen rule, 
In Senate and Assembly, 

In court and public school — 
Till e'en submissive Yankees 

Arising from the mire, 
To govern their own country, 

Shall once again aspire. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

The pressing Want — Gunpowder — Cannon and 
Cannon-Bearers — Song of the Times— Fat Men 
for Soldiers — Poyning's Law — Black Mail — 
Earl Kildare— Fate of his Son — Song of Warn- 
ing—Henry VHI— " The Old Woman of the 
Three Cows " — Intolerance of the King — Piety 
of the Irish — Irish Financiering — The fate of 
Father Robert — Church Property — Church 
Thrift— Edward VI— Mary — Elizabeth — Im- 
possibilities — The Yankee cannot be Irish — 
" We the O'Neill " — John Smith — Curious dis- 
covery of an old MS Old Rhymes. 

We have carefully examined the re- 
cords of many centuries, and have faith- 
fully given to the public such facts as 
we know to be of value, strictly avoid- 
ing everything of a partisan, sectarian, 
or local character. We have been able 
to pursue this course with all the more 
ease, from the fact that we are not an 
Irishman ; so that the greatest misfor- 
tune of our life is turned to account for 
the benefit of the student of Irish his- 
tory who devotes himself to these pages. 

In the year 1487, we find the Irish 
people suffering from a great and press- 
ing want. They had long felt that the 
weapons used in their wars with each 



other, such as clubs, pikes, axes, and 
clumsy swords, were not such as the 
state of affairs actually called for. To 
kill any considerable number of their 
countrymen in the ancient manner, with 
the unimproved arms, entailed upon a 
clan or tribe, with rights to enforce or 
wrongs to redress, great labor and fa- 
tigue. So that the leading men of Ire- 
land began to look around for some 
more easy, rapid, and satisfactory man- 
ner of destroying human life. It has 
often proved to be the case, that when 
the sky seemed black, the gloom impene- 
trable, and the future teeming with ca- 
lamities, that relief was at hand ; and in 
the year 1487, the nation was made 
happy by the introduction of firearms. 
There can be but little doubt concerning 
the date ; for we read that one O'Don- 
nell killed O'Rourke, and this happened 
about the time stated — the death of 
O'Rourke being caused by " a ball from 
a gun." The guns in those days were 
all called cannon ; and it was not an 
uncommon thing for a man to march 
into action with his cannon on his shoul- 
der. From this fact, we conclude that 
the Irishmen of those times were much 
more athletic and robust than those of 
the present ; for very few would now be 
found able to shoulder and handle to ad- 
vantage even an ordinary ten-pounder. 

The days of which we write were 
military, and it must have been a truly 
grand spectacle when a regiment went 
into action ; each member bearing upon 
his shoulder a ten-pound parrot or a 
mountain howitzer, thus rendering horses 
and all the heavy and expensive accou- 
trements of a modern battery entirely 
superfluous. As we have stated, the 
Irish people had long sighed for some 
improvement in their weapons, which 
would render them more destructive ; 
and to a people in such a frame of 
mind, the introduction of gunpowder 



86 



HIBERN1A ; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD VER. 



was hailed with heartfelt joy. They 
felt that the event marked a new era in 
Irish affairs. Statesmen calculated the 
effect on society, and predicted rapid 
progress in all that pertained to civiliza- 
tion ; military men adopted new tac- 
tics ; kings began to estimate their 
ability to occupy their thrones by the 
number of guns they could command, 
and the quantity of powder at their dis- 
posal ; and even the poets, inspired by 
the general enthusiasm, sought to cele- 
brate the new triumph of civilization in 
verse. It seems to have been the prac- 
tice, even after the invention of powder, 
by an ingenious Irishman, to commeuce 
a battle with the old-fashioned weapons, 
while the men with the cannon on their 
shoulders were held in reserve until the 
critical moment, when the order, " Bring 
up the guns" was given, and then the 
cannon-bearers marched forward like a 
St. Patrick's Day procession, sweeping 
all before them. The effect must have 
been grand, and it is this particular part 
of the battle that the ballad writers and 
poets of that day have labored to describe, 
and Irishmen everywhere have sung : 

BRINGING UP THE GUNS. 
Morn on the hill-tops beaming, 
Steel in the daylight gleaming, 
Up ! comrades, up ! the foe, they come, 
With colors proudly streaming. 

They charge us ; boys, stand steady, 
Bring up the guns, make ready, 
Bring up the guns, bring up the guns, 
Stand firm, boys ; steady, steady. 
See where the sunlight glancing, 
From bayonets advancing, 
Eeveals the foe in dread array, 
Their war steeds fiercely prancing. 

They charge us, boys, etc. 
Over the field now dashing, 
They come ; they are here, and flashing 
From muzzles hot, fly deadly shot, 
Through ranks of freemen crashing. 

They charge us, boys, etc. 

Just what kind of men physically, make 
the best soldiers, is a question which has 



elicited much discussion among military 
men ; but it is now generally admitted 
that a square-built man, with a capacious 
stomach, digestive organs on a large 
scale, and his bones well ^covered with 
flesh, is preferable to a man who is thin 
and skinny. Large men, heavy men, 
charge with a power very difficult to 
oppose. The stone fortification is soon 
chipped and splintered into fragments by 
the balls which bury themselves in the 
ordinary earthwork, doing little or no 
injury. The same bullet that severs the 
muscles or splinters the bones of the lean 
man, would simply bury itself in the 
flesh of the man who is fat, leaving him 
to go on with his part of the battle until 
the party of the second part was either 
killed or defeated. So we perceive that 
a fat mau makes a better soldier than a 
lean one, for he simply absorbs the bul- 
lets and fights on. 

The Earl of Kildare was accused 
of burning the Cathedral of Cashel, to 
avenge himself on the archbishop for 
some real or fancied injury. His defense 
was that he would not have done it had 
he not been told that the archbishop 
was within. The proof fully sustained 
the defense set up by the Earl, and he 
was triumphantly acquitted. The king 
was so much amused by the Earl's reply 
to the charge of arson, that he laughed 
heartily, and upon the remark that all 
Ireland could not rule the Earl, the king 
at once replied that then all Ireland 
should be ruled by him, and in this cir- 
cumstance originated the rule so rigidly 
enforced in New York — that no man 
shall be elected or appointed to rule his 
fellow-man who has ever allowed him- 
self to be ruled. Such as have been law- 
abiding citizens are prohibited by public 
opinion from holding office under the 
most perfect of human systems — the 
Irish government of New York. 

In a report on the state of Ireland, 



HIBERN1A; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



87 



prepared by the Royal command, it was 
stated that the only counties subject 
to English rule, were Louth, Meath, 
Dubliu, Kildare, and Wexford, and 
even in these, such as lived near the 
boundaries were compelled to pay 
"Black Mail" to the Irish. The custom 
of seizing and collecting this tax was 
transplanted to America at an early 
day. 

In 1534, Earl Kildare went to Lon- 
don, where he was seized and shut up in 
the Tower. A rumor was circulated that 
he had been liberated. His son, enraged 
at his fathers wrongs, drew his sword, 
but his efforts were unavailing. The 
father died when he heard of his son's 
conduct, and the son gave himself up 
in August, 1538, on a promise that he 
should be spared, made by Henry the 
Eighth — and made only to be broken ; 
for Henry was as destitute of houor and 
reliability as a cauvasser of votes in New 
York, and paid as little regard to his 
oath as that wretched class of modern 
mercenaries. The son, with five of his 
uncles, who were seized at a banquet, 
were executed* on the 3d of February, 
1539, just nineteen days previous to the 
celebration of the anniversary of Wash- 
ington's birthday. He waited too long. 
When he made the attempt to resist Eng- 
lish rule, which resulted in his execution, 
his foes proved themselves too strong for 
him. He had feasted and revelled while 
his enemies were each day becoming 
more powerful, and until they were able 
to say to him, just as the corrupt rulers 
of New York will soon be able to say 
to the people of America : 

TIED HAND AND FOOT. 

Tied hand and foot ! 

Your murmurs and repining, 

Are useless now — so quietly obey. 
Think not to move your master's hearts by 
whining, 

Not so ! put all such foolish whims away ; 



You slept a quiet sleep, while rogues untiring, 
Were 'gainst your rights your liberty con- 
spiring. 
You laughed, and quaffed, 
Of pleasure only dreaming ; 
They plotted still— 
For wealth and power scheming. 

Tied hand and foot ! 
Where now is all the glory 
Won by your sires on many a hard-fough 
field? 
Forever fled, a half-forgotten story. 
Sons of the brave, how could you tamely 
yield ? 
They forged your chains these traitors unre- 
lenting, 
You saw their work, yet smiled as if consent- 
ing. 
By good men warned, 

You spurned the words they uttered, 
Even while the sky was black. 
And threatening thunders muttered, 

Is there no American to rise up and 
say to his slumbering countrymen : 

Tied hand and foot ! 

A little time may find us, 

Under the bold usurping despots heel. 
One struggle more with those who seek to 
bind us. 
The wrath of a wronged people let them 
feel. 
Why linger? Did our fathers faint and falter, 
Though threatened with the bullet and the 

halter. 
Draw, freemen draw, 

No time for useless wailing, 
Strike, freemen strike, 

Soon may your wrath be unavailing. 

Henry found that between himself and 
his wife, Catharine, there existed an iu- 
compatability of temper. And rather 
than move to Indiana for the requisite 
sixty days, and then get a divorce, he 
applied directly to the Pope. The Pope 
declined to interfere, and Heury forth- 
with set up an independent church, and 
became " Defender of the Faith." The 
pious mouarch married in all six wives. 
According to the custom of his time it 
was necessary for him to dispose of one 
before he took another, a rule which 



88 



HIBEBNIA ; OR, IRELAND TEE WORLD VER. 



caused him much inconvenience. The 
book of Mormon had not then been dis- 
covered, and Henry was compelled to 
resort to a vigorous cutting off of heads. 

" Easy old woman of the cows," is a 
saying common in Ireland. There is a 
queer story of a woman who collected 
enough money to buy three cows, and 
who at once displayed as many airs, 
and assumed as much style, as would 
have been expected from the daughter 
of a member of a New York Commis- 
sion, or a city contractor. Her folly 
became a by-word ; and now, when a 
woman displays too much vanity, it is 
usual to check her by repeating the say- 
ing we have quoted. 

In New York, women make money 
to buy cows, by keeping apple-stands. 
They not only serve themselves in this 
way, but they add to the public prosper- 
ity by enriching the treasury ; for every 
apple-lady who starts a stand pays a 
license fee of one dollar, and as it costs 
the city eighty-seven to advertise the 
resolution, it is plain to all such as have 
been taught by an Irish schoolmaster, 
that the public are greatly benefited by 
this branch of commerce. We have 
mentioned the case of the "old woman 
of the three cows," with the hope that 
it will deter American ladies who may 
accumulate money, from trying to imi- 
tate- the airs and manners of the Irish 
aristocracy. Let the native of America 
remember his obscure ancestry, his hum- 
ble birth, and the insignificance of his 
country, and reflect how impossible it is 
for him to imitate successfully that court- 
ly dignity and elegance of manner, which 
nave descended to the Irishman through 
a long line of noble ancestors, together 
with wealth, which has enabled him to 
live a life of princely leisure. Education 
will do much for the man who strives to 
improve himself ; but it will not bestow 
upon him that kingly carriage, that 



noble bearing, that indescribable some- 
thing, which stamps him as the superior 
of his fellows. These are the character- 
istics of a race lofty and refiued, and 
they cannot be acquired as a child 
learns the alphabet. Americans who 
attempt it waste their time. They can- 
not be Irishmen, though they devote 
their lives to the effort. 

It is dangerous to resist the Pope. 
So it proved in Henry's case. He had 
domestic trouble, (no man has such 
trouble unless he is wicked). His sub- 
jects were oppressed and cruelly treated, 
and when he died, he left behind a bad 
character, and all this, we have no 
reason to doubt, was because he turned 
his back on the Church, and set up an 
authority of his own, " Of the earth, 
earthy," to secure prosperity, purity, 
and tranquillity, let the Capitol of 
America be transferred to Blackfoot, 
Flat Head City, or Comanche Gut, 
and give Washington to the Pope. 
Such is the plain duty of the American 
people. 

It has been argued that Americans, 
because they beg for votes, wallow in 
the mire of humility, and submit to 
brazen-faced impudence, ought not to be 
classed with the spirited and the brave 
— such people, for instance, as the Aus- 
trians, the Russians, or the Italians ; 
but such arguments are unjust and with- 
out force. What if the people of 
America should conduct themselves in a 
different manner, would they not run the 
risk of losing the Irishman entirely ; 
possibly they would leave America to 
her fate, and go back to that " Green 
Isle in the ocean," where poetry and 
song are so plenty, and money so scarce. 
This thought cannot be endured by the 
grateful natives. Thousands of Irish- 
men have turned their backs upon a 
joyful home in Ireland, and, braving 
fever and ague, election riots, and that 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



89 



which is far more terrible than either, 
American whiskey, have sacrificed them- 
selves, that Americans might thrive. 
The people under Irish rule have a 
great and good government, and their 
revenues are properly invested. So 
well have they performed this work of 
charity and love, there are few, if any, 
treasuries in the country in which funds 
are allowed to lie idle. All the money 
raised by taxation, all that can be bor- 
rowed, is put in active circulation — and 
thus the politicians wear diamonds and 
the venders of ardent spirits amass for- 
tunes. Drive this generous people from 
our shores, and the fainting and thirsty 
would be compelled to travel whole 
blocks before they could buy one cool, 
invigorating drink, instead of being 
cheered, as they now are, at every 
step, with that beautiful quotation from 
a book of old : " Imported Wines and 
Liquors," so displayed as to greet the 
eye, soothe the heart, and revive the 
soul of the weary wayfarer. 

The struggle between Henry and the 
adherents of the Pope raged fearfully. 
In 1539 the friars of the convent of Ath- 
aree were ordered to take the oath of 
supremacy, and surrender their property 
to the Crown, but the Prior objected. It 
seems strange that in nearly all the 
transfers of property, where a church or 
religious institution is concerned, the lat- 
ter are the recipients. They take prop- 
erty, but never give it up. Catholics or 
Baptists, it is all the same. Men ap- 
pear, who assume control of the public 
domain, and appropriate a good share to 
themselves, and then seek to hide their 
infamy by giving away the balance to 
parties who are willing to accept it in 
the name of religion. It seems to be a 
great consolation to the man who has 
appropriated public land or money to 
his own use feloniously, if he can find a 
church to share with him, as though the 



piety professed by one would atone for 
the sins of the other. There are those 
in America who claim that these favors 
are bestowed on one church in order to 
secure the votes of its members, and 
upon the other, simply that the giver 
may appear consistent. 

Father Robert was summoned to re- 
cognize the king, but he replied that he 
looked upon the King of England as 
the head of the Synagogue of Satan, and 
about that time his head was struck off 
by one of Henry's zealous officials, who, 
it is claimed, made every effort to con- 
vert the obstinate priest, before resorting 
to such decided measures. 

Cromwell took a business view of 
church matters, and put the property up 
at auction ; and we find that he realized 
a large sum from the sale of divers 
pieces of gold, and a good sum from the 
sale of one thousand pounds of wax, and 
a still larger sum from the sale of sacred 
vessels. In America the public men do 
not disturb the church property or sac- 
red vessels, except under very urgent 
circumstances, but content themselves 
with the public treasury. It is hoped that 
the tax-payers will keep up the supply 
of money, so that the rulers will not be 
driven to appropriate the property of 
the churches, as they did in Ireland. 

On the 28th day of January, 1547, 
Edward VI. was crowned King of Eng- 
land, and at once proceeded to correct 
and improve the religion of his subjects. 
Mary took possession of the throne in 
1553, and proceeded to hang and burn 
her subjects, with the idea of making 
those who were left more particular and 
God-fearing, How different from the 
course pursued by the humane rulers of 
America, who only require that the peo- 
ple shall hand over to them their money, 
and then generously spare them those 
hangings and burnings so frequent in 
the reign of Mary. The earnings of an 



90 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



American citizen are, in that happy coun- 
try, designated as taxes, and no man is 
in danger of being burned who is prompt 
and faithful in paying them over. 

Elizabeth was a maiden queen — a gen- 
tle, loving woman, though she never mar- 
ried. The English continued, under her 
rule, to hang and die in the flames, as 
though she was a man with all the brutal 
instincts and inclinations of the male sex. 
The gentle queen was accused of desiring 
the death of O'Neill, and of actually ar- 
ranging the terms upon which the deed 
was to be done, but "We, the O'Neill," 
managed to protect himself. John Smith 
seems to have been trusted by the queen 
in this- matter. We have labored hard 
to ascertain which particular "John" it 
was, but must leave the question in doubt. 
He has turned up continually since that 
time, more and more every year. Eliza- 
beth repudiated the crime, and express- 
ed the greatest horror at the attempt to 
murder O'Neill. She declared that even 
in the cause of religion she was not 
willing to resort to assassination ; but 
times have changed, and the Church is 
now no longer hampered and restricted, 
nor do the fears of a timid woman stand 
in the way of salvation. 

We present more historical verses, and 
in them erroneous impressions are cor- 
rected. Leouidas was not killed at 
Thermopylae, but nobly fell near Dub- 
lin. The particular family which King 
Solomon married into is pointed out. 
The rhymes seem to be a part of a poem 
commenced, no doubt, ages before the 
reign of the Virgin Queen. 

G stands for Gorilla— 

That terrible beast, 
That serves the poor traveller 

Up for a feast. 

H stands for Hibernia — 

Isle of the sea, 
Where the people still quarrel 

And will not agree. 



I stands for auld Ireland — 

She has kindly sent over 
Her sons to hold office 

And live in the clover. 

J stands for John Bull, 

Who is fond of his beef, 
And the Fenians labor 

To bring him to grief. 

K stands for King Solomon, 
Who they say was no fool, 

And was cousin to Bridget, 
And Barney 0' Toole. 

L stands for Leonidas, 

Slaughtered, alas ! 
Between Dublin and Cork, 

While defending a pass. 

The ancient MS. from which we res- 
cued the above lines was for many years 
used to supply the place of a broken 
pane in the window of Lannagan's house, 
and was discovered by the author of this 
volume on the very night of the ball ; 
and this is why literary men speak so 
affectionately of " Lannagan's Ball." 



CHAPTER XVII. 

Shane O'Neilh— He visits England— Gallowglass- 
es— The Parade objected to — New Jersey 
County — Public Opinion— Costumes, English 
and Irish— The Harp that at the City Hall— A 
German Insult resented— O'Neill's Bard— The 
Nice Young Man — Crimes of O'Neill — Killed— 
— Carolan, the Bard— The Spensers— Bones 
and Coroners — "Where are now the Roughs I 
cherished ?"— Essex' Treachery— The Song of 
the Bribe-Taker— Death of Essex— The Peo- 
ple amused while the Rulers are employed. 

Shane O'Neill visited England in 
1562. He was attended by a guard of 
Gi-allowglasses, which means nothing more 
nor less than tall Irishmen, with long curl- 
ing hair and bare-headed. It is a singular 
fact, that savages seldom lose their hair. 
Baldness is one of the blessed results of 
civilization. It comes with earnest 
thought and an industrious cultivation 
of the mind. The Americau savage 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER 



91 



fully understands this, and plucks out 
his hair, or shaves his head, which gives 
him, as he is well aware, a proudly intel- 
lectual appearance. 

The Gallowglasses were dressed in 
linen, with long open sleeves, and short 
tunics, dyed saffron color ; and in this 
costume, the Irish chief announced his 
intention to parade the streets. Then 
arose a fierce controversy. The right 
to parade was denied ; and the Irish, 
as is their custom, proceeded to manu- 
facture clubs, and sharpen their knives. 
A battle seemed unavoidable. The 
Lord Mayor, unequal to the emergency, 
hesitated and faltered, and at last, con- 
vinced that those who opposed the pa- 
rade were in the majority, took sides 
with them. Then the natives, though 
used to submission, denounced the Lord 
Mayor, until the perplexed and perse- 
cuted servant of the people was obliged 
to seek repose at a watering-place, some 
distance from the scene of excitement ; 
and thus was the peace of a community 
disturbed, and the ease and comfort of 
the Lord Mayor interfered with, simply 
because a party of men had conclud- 
ed not to tolerate yellow tunics and 
long hair. The tunics were harmless, 
but the long hair was surely objec- 
tionable. 

Lampoons and verses of every des- 
cription made their appearance, some of 
which we copy, as showing the feeling 
at the time : 

What means the preparation, 

The bustle and the noise, 
The sound of martial music. 

And the movements of the boys? 
Lo, the Orangemen make ready 

For a march, and by the powers, 
We will teach them better manners, 

For the streets, you know, are ours. 

They say the law protects them, 

But in time it will be seen, 
That the hated yellow ribbon, 

Cannot flourish with the green. 



We will meet them, though the bullets 
Fall in deadly leaden showers, 

And they shall not march in triumph — 
For the streets, you know, are ours. 

The next verse seems to be a sort of 
summons, and from it we gather an idea 
of the weapons used at the time of which 
we write : 

Come on, ye brave Hibernians, 

And come prepared for fun, 
If you cannot bring a pistol, 

Bring a knife, or club, or gun. 
The authorities are with us. 

And the politician cowers, 
We will slaughter them like cattle — 

For the streets, you know, are ours. 

But the party just referred to do not 
seem to have had matters all their own 
way. New Jersey (which appears to 
have been a small and obscure county 
in New Ireland) was heard from, and 
the news seems to have revolutionized 
public sentiment, and raised up an op- 
position to the enthusiastic Hibernians 
not to be despised, as we judge from the 
following : 

But listen, from New Jersey 

Comes a voice that stirs the pride 
Of the natives, who from business, 

Just a moment turn aside. 
And the words are bravely spoken — 

' ' I will summon all the powers 
To protect the free and equal, 

For America is ours.'' 

And soon another county was heard 
from : 

And the Empire State awaking, 

Shakes the dust from off her feet. 
For her brave policemen muster, 

And her soldiers tread the street. 
And the bleeding ruffians scatter. 

While the form of justice towers, 
And the cry of every freeman, is : 

"The streets, the streets, are ours." 

The public, in a generous mood, and 
anxious to enforce the doctriue that all 
sects, creeds, and opinions, should be 
allowed equal rights and privileges, were 
heard to exclaim : 



92 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND TEE WORLD OVER. 



March on, victorious Germans, 

May your banners still advance, 
In your hearts you will not blame us, 

If we weep with bleeding France. 
And you, ye sons of Erin, 

Shall have equal rights and powers, 
But all men shall be protected, 

For America is ours. 

O'Neill was strongly urged to adopt 
the English dress, which consisted of a 
blue dress coat with gold buttons, a 
white vest with similar buttons, blue 
pants with a gold stripe, and a cap with 
a gold band — a badge, having upon it a 
tiger's head, represented the ferocious 
desire to devour the Irish nation, which 
the Britons has felt for ages. O'Neill 
indignantly refused to wear the costume, 
said that it was neither civil nor military ; 
that it represented neither church nor 
state, and he even called some of the 
courtiers who fluttered about in blue and 
gold " Popinjays," a term borrowed 
from the Irish, and not precisely under- 
stood now ; he further remarked that 
no one could with propriety adopt their 
dress or style of living but an office hold- 
er with unlimited perquisites — so costly 
had they become since the appropriation 
of public money for private purposes had 
been the practice. 

The following old Irish melody was a 
favorite with the Gallowglasses, amusing 
them greatly. Its effect on the native 
tax-payers, however, was different, for 
they seemed only to be reminded by it of 
wrongs and impositions to which they 
were subjected by their rulers. It breathes 
a spirit of Christian resignation and sim- 
plicity truly commendable : 

The harp that at the City Hall, 

Its harmony hath shed, 
Shall cheer our hearts for years to come, 

Think not that lyre dead. 
Expensive though the music is, 

We'll listen to its notes, 
And when election comes will give 

The Irishman our votes. 



Descendants of the ancient bards, 

Ye sons of Erin's Isle — 
As mild as Mary's little lamb, 

As free from sin and guile — 
Eule on ; nor heed the growling cur 

Who mutters and complains. 
Thy government is safe we know — 

The Irish hold the reins. 

Recurring to the subject of dress, we 
may say that a late occurrence in an 
American city shows how much import- 
ance the Irish people attach to it now, 
though once so much opposed to display 
and foppery. A regiment of Germans, 
without consulting the Irish authorities, 
and regardless of public opinion, ap- 
peared in the streets wearing the Prus- 
sian helmet. They met with a sudden 
and severe rebuke ; they were assailed 
with hisses, curses and groans, and mis- 
siles of every description falling upon 
their heads soon brought them to realize 
the enormity of the crime they had com- 
mitted. 

In an Irish community, where the 
laws, the courts, the tastes, manners, 
ideas, style of dress, all were Irish, the 
parade of a German regiment, in the 
Prussian uniform, looked like a devilish 
invention to provoke bloodshed; and but 
for the amiability of the Irish people 
and their known forbearance, would 
have been punished as such at once 
Strange it is that the Germans will per- 
sist in conduct offensive to our Irish 
friends, instead of submitting, like the 
Americans, without question or com- 
plaint. 

O'Neill had with him his bard, whose 
duty it was to notice and preserve in 
verse anything worthy of being thus re- 
corded. The following lines were copied 
from a manuscript taken from the hands 
of the bard himself, by a member of the 
O'Neill family, and are introduced to 
show the sentiment of the time on the 
subject of the nice young men of so- 
ciety : 



EIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



93 



Lounging on the street, 

Look at him again, 
Eye-glass in his hand, 

Fancy little cane. 
What a charming lisp, 

When he tries to talk ; 
What a genteel gait, 

When he takes a walk. 
See ! his little stick 

Gracefully he swings ; 
Listen ! Oh ! ye Gods ! 

The charming creature sings. 
Something in the room 

Thicker, stronger grows. 
Ah ! his perfume greets 

My untutored nose. 
A nicer little man 

What mortal ever saw ? 
The very thing to make 

A charming son-in-law. 
Mothers hunt him down, 

Pin him, if you can ; 
His father left him cash, 

And he's a lovely man. 

Even Shane O'Neill, though an Irish- 
man, had his faults. He married the 
daughter of O'Donnell, Lord of the 
Hebrides, and afterwards quarreled 
with his father-in-law. He contrived 
to capture him and his second wife, 
whom he kept several years as his mis- 
tress. His own wife died of shame and 
horror at his conduct, which she had 
good reason to disapprove, for he was 
as corrupt and cruel as a member of 
the New York Assembly, who are little 
better than the Senators. 

There came an end to his career. 
The Governor of Carrickfergus invited 
some Scotchmen over to Ireland, and 
intimated to them that a final disposi- 
tion of Shane O'Niell was desirable. 
They, with the shrewdness of their race, 
soon planned his destruction. They 
raised a disturbance, and killed him at 
the festive board. His head was sent 
to Dublin, when the people got full and 
complete satisfaction for the wrongs he 
had done them, by impaliug it on the 
castle walls. 



An interesting story is told of Caro- 
lan, a bard, who had lost his sight, aud 
had been absent from the lady who won 
his first love, for over twenty year*--. 
Returning from a pilgrimage to St. Pat- 
rick's purgatory in Lough Dearg, he 
took a lady by the hand, aud at once ex- 
claimed : " By the hand of my Gorrick, 
this is the hand of my first love !" and 
so it proved to be. Her name was Brid- 
get. She moved to New York, and 
lives out. Carolan followed her, and is 
on the Park Police. 

Kilcolman Castle, was given to the 
poet, Spenser, about the year 1579. 
He leaves a mournful account of the con- 
dition of the country in broken English : 

" Like as I never was in a more 
pleasant country in all my life, so never 
saw I more waste, desolate land." 

He then goes on to tell of the bones 
of dead subjects, who had been mur- 
dered or died from starvation, and 
which lay exposed. 

The bones of the dead in America 
are not left exposed. Each fragement 
is enough to justify an inquest, and each 
inquest justifies a claim for fees. The 
same bone goes through different hands ; 
each putting in his claim, until, after 
having been sat upon by a jury, and 
performed long journeys by laud and 
water, it is dumped into an expensive 
grave. Not a bone is allowed to es- 
cape unnoticed ; for the coroner reasons 
thus : The more bones, the more in- 
quests ; the more inquests, the more 
money ; the more money, the more rum ; 
the more rum, the more murders ; the 
more murders, the more bones — and so 
does he continue to reason, as it were, 
in a ring, always arriving at the same 
conclusion ; but he continues to sum- 
mon juries and hold inquests, and as the 
bodies of the departed are disposed of, 
the rulers are heard to sing, mournfully, 
and to the plaintive air of an Irish opera : 



94 



HIBERNIA ; OR, IRELAND TEE WORLD VER. 



Where are now the Roughs I cherished, 

Where the voters once called mine f 
Some from too much rum have perished, 

Some the prison walls confine. 
Voting early, voting often, 

Voting morning, noon, and night, 
And ready, always ready, 
For a riot or a fight. 

And ready 
With their weapons, 
Knife and slung-shot, 
For a fight. 

Can I look upon the people, 

Can I hear them curse and wail, 
And continue still to rob them, 

And their dearest rights assail ? 
Shall I stop or travel onward, 

Moving still in foul corruption's path, 
Shall I smother truth and honor, 
Braving still the people' s wrath ? 
Shall I smother 
Truth and honor, 
Braving still 
The people's wrath. 

In 3574 the Earl of Essex, who went 
to Ireland with certain grants and pow- 
ers, made peace with Brian O'Niell, who 
prepared a feast, to which Essex and his 
followers were invited. For three days 
and nights they drank and made merry, 
and all seemed bright and joyous, but 
of a sudden the Earl's followers seized 
Brian, his brother, and his wife, and put 
his friends — men, women, youths, and 
maidens — to the sword. Brian and the 
other prisoners were taken to Dublin, 
where they were cut in quarters — and 
by such perfidy and deeds of blood, the 
Englishmen sought to civilize and Christ- 
ianize the Irish. No man of honor but 
will denounce the treachery of the Earl ; 
he deserved to be denounced, and so does 
the man who betrays his constituents 
and allows the orange of his virtue to 
be plucked for a sum of money. It was 
necessary to seek, in America, for the 
man who could make merchandise of his 
oath, betray his constituents, send his 
soul to perdition, and then stand up and, 
with a brazen cheek, sing 



THE SONG OF THE BRIBE-TAKER. 

For sale, for sale — who'll buy, who'll buy? 

My oath I offer now, 
Come bid ; for money you may put 

A brand upon my brow. 
I swore to serve the people well, 
That solemn oath I now will sell. 

Give me a bid, 

I want the cash, 

Honor and truth 

With me are trash. 

I'll meet and brave the public scorn, 
I'll bear the people's curse, 

Come, buy my oath, for fain would I 
Put money in my purse. 

A paltry sum it should not be — 

I must be paid for perjury, 

An oath and soul, 
Who'll buy, come, come — 
They should command 
A handsome sum. 

Yes ; going, going, going — gone ! 
And now upon my brow, 

Is written infamy and shame, 
For Satan owns me now. 

From honest men I shrink and hide, 

Where shall the bribe-taker abide ? 
Beloved by none, 
My blackened name 
Must live, and to 
My children's shame. 

Essex died in Dublin, September 22, 
1576. He was fond of music in his life- 
time, and pensioned several harpers. 

The Earl of Ormonde's musician was 
allowed forty shillings. The people of 
New York were rejoiced to see the old 
man with his lyre in the procession, on 
the occasion of the celebration of St. 
Patrick's Day, looking as hale and hear- 
ty as he did three hundred years ago. 
But we must remember that he draws 
a pension, and may live several centuries 
longer. 

Upon one occasion, the chief of, po- 
lice in Paris, reported to Napoleon I., 
that the people were restless and discon- 
tented and in a state of mind to make 
the Emperor trouble. He heard the 
report of the officer, paused for a mo- 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



95 



nient only, and then gave the order : 
" Go and gild the dome of the Hospital 
de Invalides.'' Next day all eyes were 
turned toward the dome, and the people 
of Paris forgot their wrongs while watch- 
ing the progress of the work. And so, 
when the people of the American me- 
tropolis became uneasy; when plunderers 
assumed control of public affairs; when 
taxes became burdensome, for the rea- 
son that vast sums were wasted by the 
rulers ; when the scum of society rose to 
the top, and good citizens were forced 
into obscurity, and justice became a bye- 
word, and government a farce, it was 
found necessary then to amuse the people 
— something had to be done to soothe 
them, and a statue of the Greek maiden, 
in the act of leading off in the Irish jig, 
was set up as a fountain in the corner of 
one of the city parks. Some flowers were 
planted, and a few bands of music were 
hired to play at certain points in the 
city. Under this arrangement, the peo- 
ple gazed and listened, but the rulers 
continued to plunder ; the times were 
spoken of as prosperous, for the poli- 
ticians amassed riches ; Catholic insti- 
tutions acquired large tracts of the pub- 
lic domain, rum-sellers became statesmen, 
and the low gamblers, professional fight- 
ers and dog-fanciers were transformed 
into men of station and influence. Still 
the bands continued to play, and the 
people remained submissive. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Sir Henry Sidney— Kisses the Queen's Hand — 
Barry's Conrt — Christmas Festivities — New 
Year's Song — The Earl of Clanrickarde — His 
Sons — Grace O'Malley, the Feminine Sea 
Captain— Chivalry — The Song of the Rough— 
Old Manuscript — Songs of Love and War — 
Dreadful fate of a Maiden Fair — She moves to 
D-lee-noy— Barney O'Toole — Cruelty of Sid- 
ney — Spenser, the Poet — He marries an Irish 



Girl— Hugh Roe O'Donnell and Mac Sweeney 
—Captured by a Trick— How the first Sweeney 
was caught: — Homes for the Sparrows— Song 
of the Sparrows. 

Sir Henry Sidney went back to Ire- 
land in 1515. He tells us how he took 
leave of the Queen, kissing her sacred 
hands ; how he proceeded to Dublin, 
then infested with pestilence ; how he 
went to Drogheda, and received the 
sword of the then Deputy ; and how he 
attacked and defeated Sorley Borg and 
the Scotch at Carrickfergus ; and he 
tells us further how he passed Christmas 
at Barry's Court, and says that: " There 
never was such a Christmas kept in the 
same." He also tells us of New Year's, 
and of an intensely comical song popu- 
lar at the court during the holidays, the 
chorus to which he speaks most favor- 
ably of, saying, that "it taketh a most 
cunning bard to compose a chant of but 
four lines, but which contaiueth never- 
theless two drinks." 

NEW YEAR'S SONG. 

Old Time moves on with rapid stride, 

The old year dies to-night — 
But love-lit eyes upon us beam, 
And the red wine sparkles bright. 
Then drink to love and the joy it brings, 

Fill up to the tried and true, 
We'll drain a glass to the dying year, 
And a bumper to the new. 

They tell us life is but a dream, 

As transient as the day ; 
Then is it wise to mope and pine 

The fleeting hours away ? 

No ; drink, etc. 

Old age will come with wrinkled brow, 

And locks of frosty white, 
But what of that, we'll banish care 

And all be young to-night, 

Then drink, etc, 

And pledge to woman o'er each heart, 

May beauty cast a ray, 
As bright as are the sunny beams, 

That chase the night away. 

And drink, etc. 



96 



BIBERN1A ; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD VER. 



Had the old year its cankering cares, 
Then think of them no more, 

For they are past — fill up to joys, 
The new year has in store. 

Then drink, etc. 

After the festivities were over, he went 
to Thormond, where he met very wicked 
people, some of whom he "killed, and 
hanged the others." It evidently made 
little difference to the victims, which 
were killed, or which were hanged — the 
effect was much the same on all. 

The Earl of Clanrickarde compelled 
his two rebellious sons to submit to his 
authority, " whom I would to God I had 
then hanged," so he afterward express- 
ed his regret. He kept them close priso- 
ners, and had " a sermon made of them," 
in the chief church of the town, which 
he seemed to regard as the next thing to 
a funeral. He set them at liberty, and 
soon an unusual outrage was committed. 
The old earl declared that it must have 
been committed by John, whom he 
seemed to think the worst of the two, if 
a distinction could be made. 

Sidney marched to the West, and had 
an interview with the famous Grace 
O'Malley, a feminine sea captain of re- 
nown. She had three hundred men, 
among whom were O'Flaherty and Dick 
Burke, known as plundering, warlike, 
and unjust men. The exploits of "the 
female sailor " have been told and sung 
so often that any attempt in that direc- 
tion by the author of this volume seems 
to him superfluous. It appears that the 
Irish women continued to figure in the 
wars, and to brave dangers intended 
for men only. We have already told 
how Scota and Fas fell while nobly 
contending with their enemies, in the 
ranks. In a country where War was car- 
ried on from generation to generation, 
it was natural that there should spring 
up a spirit of chivalry, and an ambition 
to excel in feats of arms. Cowardice 



was a crime; no rank was exempt from 
punishment, but such as were brave, 
and performed great deeds in battle, 
were praised and promoted, and made 
the theme of many a song and story. 

New York affords a class of beings 
unpopular, though noted for their deeds 
of daring. Their mode of warfare is re- 
corded in 

THE SONG OF THE ROUGH. 

Oh, I'm a rough, a New York rough, 
My skull is thick, my skin is tough, 
My fist is hard, from dealing blows — 
I've broken many a comely nose. 
Out in the night, 
By the dim gaslight, 
I seek the brawl 
And the drunken fight. 

Oh, I'm a rough; I tell no news. 

I love to pummel, beat and bruise, 

I love to wrangle, rant and swear, 

Of me let peaceful men beware. 
I fear no law, 
With my bail of straw, 
And I laugh at the courts, 
With a ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Oh, I'm a rough, I will tell you true, 
I wear a knife and a slung-shot, too ; 
Blood surely flows when I am near, 
And even the Cops turn pale with fear ; 
And the rulers say 
He must have his way, 
For we want his help 
On election day. 

Oh, I'm a rough, and I get my fill 
Of rum, and then do I cut and kill ; 
First rum, and then for a bloody deed, 
When I am drunk, then do good men 
bleed. 

To the ballot-box 
Let them come in flocks, 
But I'll scatter them all 
With my murderous knocks. 

These modern heroes take delight in 
beating unfortunate women, knocking 
down peaceable citizens, killing car con- 
ductors, and, in short, making them- 
selves very disagreeable — so much so, 
that the people become impatient, and 
sometimes mildly protest against their 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



97 



irregularities ; not that they propose to 
interfere with, or prevent them — it is 
only when thrown off their guard by a 
new murder, that they speak unkindly 
of the hero of the rum shop, the street 
car, and the polls. 

From a manuscript, as old as the 
habit of wearing swallow-tailed coats, 
we copy the following ditty as a fair 
sample of those sung centuries ago by 
blushing maidens to their scarred and 
battered, but tender aud ever constant 
lovers. They were fond of dwelling 
upon scenes sad and melancholy, and 
upon the circumstances which form the 
subject of the following ballad, do dwell 
at some length : 

Air— "Brave Wolf." 

Keep up your hearts young men, 

Let nothing fright you ; 
A story I will tell, 

Which it shall delight you, 
About a brave young man, 

Who went to battle 
Where cannon loud did roar, 

And muskets they did rattle. 

He was a comely youth 

Of birth and station, 
An ornament he was 

Onto the nation. 
His parients were rich, 

Father and mother ; 
He was an only son, 

And had no brother. 

A maiden fair he lov-ed— 

She was a beauty ; 
But her he had to leave, 

Because it was his duty ; 
And her poor aching heart, 

Was vexed and sore, 
For she did greatly fear 

That she would never see him more. 

She dreamt a dreadful dream — 

A dream of sorrow, 
And sadly she did wake 

Upon the morrow. 
She dreamt she saw her lov-yer 

Shot and kil-led ; 
And her poor maiden heart. 

With grief it was fil-led. 



Then gently he did speak, 

And did caress her ; 
But still the dreadful dream 

Did much distress her. 
She cried, "My dearest love, 

What do you go for ?' ' 
And fainting, she fell down 

Upon a sofa. 

Said he, " My love, I cannot 

Stay with you longer ; 
And then her sobs became 

Louder and stronger. 
"Look up, my love," he cried, 

" While still I linger ;" 
Then a ring of richest gold 

He put upon*her lily-white finger. 

Our hero bravely fought, 
Naught could restrain him ; 

At length a ball did hit 
And did greatly pain him ; 

When shot from off his horse, 
His clothes all bloody. 

He feel upon the ground, 

So wet, and likewise muddy. 

And now the men did shout, 

And the drums did rattle ; 
The hero raised his head 

Saying, " How goes the battle ?" 
' ' The foe are flying now, ' ' 

A sergeant cri-ed. 
" I die content," he said 

And dying he di-ed. 

This poem is ascribed to Patsey Lun- 
nen, bard of the Earl of Wallingford, 
and we feel that we might, without tax- 
ing the patience of the reader, give a 
few hundred stanzas more of this inter- 
esting ballad, but we shall close with the 
following, which reveals the fate of the 
lonely and sorrow-stricken maiden whose 
lover went to the war, and was killed : 

Three weeks his love did mourn, 

And sorely she grie-ved, 
And then she mar-ri-ed, 

And she felt much re-lie-ved. 
Her friends all gathered 'round, 

Wishing her joy, 
And then she moved out 
To U-lee-noy. 

Such was the fate of the brave Dennis 
McQuirk and of the gentle maideu who 
gave her love to a soldier. 



98 



HIBERN1A; OB, IRELAND THE WORLD OYER. 



About the year 1571, Rory Oge 
O'More kept the pale excited by his 
bold exploits. He stole into the town of 
Naas and set it on fire, much to the dis- 
comfort of the people. After a long 
season of law-breaking, he was killed 
by one of McGillapatric's men. He was 
celebrated in a song which, in honor of 
him, was called " Rory O'More," but 
the real hero and the one whose name 
ought to have been preserved for killing 
the troublesome agitator, was young 
Barney O'Toole, of whom we have a reli- 
able account, for one of the bards of the 
times tells us, to the air of " Rory 
O'More," that 

Young Barney O'Toole was a broth of a boy, 
Who crossed over the sea with the bold Pat 

Malloy ; 
They landed at night, it was rainy and dark, 
And next day got a job to work out in the 

park. 
Said Barney to Pat, "Sure of labor I'm sick, 
I'm tired of digging and swinging the pick, 
The man who will toil for his bread is a fool, 
I was born for a judge," said young Barney 

O'Toole. 

Then he lit up his pipe and he put on his coat, 
And he ran for an office ; they counted the 

vote, 
And they figured it out by the Tammany rule, 
And who was elected, but Barney O'Toole, 
Then he bought a new coat and a diamond so 

fine, 
And a lad for five cents gave his boots a nice 

shine ; 
Then he talked about court, legislation, and 

school, 
For he now was a statesman, bold Barney 

O'Toole. 

Sidney refused the Irish shelter for 
themselves, and pasture for their cows, 
and it was about this time that they re- 
sorted to goats and geese, which it has 
become a habit with them to keep, and 
one which has accompanied them to 
America, where the vacant grounds, 
streets, and avenues, are very properly 
placed at their disposal. To this day 
it warms the heart of a native of New 



York to find a flock of geese nipping the 
tender grass in front of his house, and a 
goat reposing on his door steps, and he 
blesses Ireland as he snuffs the rich per- 
fume of the one, and enjoys the innocent 
cackle of the other. 

Spenser, the poet, married an Irish 
girl, and in the year 1598 his castle was 
plundered and burned. His youngest 
child perished in the flames. He fled to 
London, where he died the next year, 
oppressed by extreme poverty — and such 
was the fate of the author of "The 
Fairie Queene." 

In the year 1561 we hear that the 
church officials became corrupt. "The 
sacred plate adorned prebendal side- 
boards and dinner tables." The organ 
pipes were melted into dishes for the 
kitchens, and the frames of the organs 
were made into bedsteads. Copes and 
vestments were made into gowns and 
baldricks ; in short, those in charge of 
the churches became proud, worldly, 
and extravagant. 

Hugh Roe O'Donnell was a young and 
rising Irishman, fully qualified to be an 
assistant-alderman. The English sought 
to get possession of him, and resorted 
to a stratagem. A vessel, laden with 
Spanish wine, was sent to Donegal, and 
she anchored in the Rath Mullin, where 
the young man was staying with his 
foster-father, MacSweeney. They went 
on board for wine ; the messenger was 
told that he could have none, but that 
the gentlemen would be supplied if they 
would come on board ; they accepted 
the invitation, and, while sipping their 
wine, their arms were taken, the hatches 
fastened down, the cable cut, and the 
vessel stood out to sea. They were 
taken to Dublin and confined in the 
castle. From Mac Sweeney, foster- 
father of Hugh Roe O'Donnell, des- 
cended the Sweeneys of America, who, 
in a fit of vanity, or influenced by some 



EIBERN1A ; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD VER. 



99 



strange whim, have dropped the Mac, 
leaving the name plain Sweeny. It has 
been stated that the original Sweeny 
was not entrapped in the manner just 
described, but that he was the identical 
Irishman caught with a barrel of potatoes. 
It is said that a hole was cut in the barrel 
through which Mac thrust his hand. 
He grasped a large potato and refused 
to let go, though he could not with- 
draw his hand without doing so ; in 
this attitude he was found, and easily 
made a prisoner. Other members of 
the family have their hands in the barrel, 
have grasped the potato, and, as they 
refuse to let go, may yet be captured. 

In America, the family are busy fur- 
nishing horn esfor the sparrows. For these 
Hibernian birds comfortable homes are 
erected at the public expense, who in 
return, with their innocent chirping, 
charm the American heart. The child- 
ren often imagine that in the song of 
the birds they can distinguish something 
like the words : 

Chipperty chirp — I see, I Bee, 

He is building a fancy home for me, 

And every nail, as I am alive, 

Shall bring to the builder dollars five, 

For so are they paid who build for me, 

Chipperty chirp — I see, I see. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

Contentment — Once an Irishman always an 
Irishman— Song, O'Rafferty— The number of 
Offices limited— Worthy Men unprovided for 
—Expedients to prevent suffering — Nominal 
Labor— Song of the Haymakers — Aldermen 
exempt from Constitutional Limitations — Ad- 
vanced Civilization— A self-supporting Relig- 
ion regulated by Law— Department of Re- 
ligion — More Offices— The Bishop of Down — 
His Execution— The Office-Holder— The Can- 
didate victimized— His Visitors and their 
Wants—" A little Fin-emee" — James — Plots, 
etc The Confession of the Demagogue. 

Contentment is a shining trait in the 
character of the Irishman. He leaves 



the beautiful lakes and rivers of his own 
" Green Isle," and settles down, making 
himself comfortable and at home. All 
that is Irish or that pertains to Ireland, 
he is careful to take with him when he 
leaves. He is an Irishman when he bids 
adieu to his native land ; he continues 
to be one on the ship, proudly treading 
the decks in brogues and corduroys. He 
lands an Irishman, and greets the star- 
tled but admiring natives of the land he 
deigns to honor with a swing of his 
black-thorn stick, an exultant shout, and 
a touch of the Irish jig. In America 
he is appealed to, honored, and manipu- 
lated, but no power earthly can trans- 
form him into anything but an Irishman, 
thorough and complete. Seized upon at 
the very moment of his arrival, subject- 
ed to trials and temptations hard to re- 
sist or overcome, still does he remain 
fixed and unchangeable. How the long- 
ing natives of America await his coming, 
how they receive him, and how he is 
made ready for public life in his adopted 
country, the reader may infer from the 
following lines, which give the experience 
of a distinguished Greek, and his band : 

O'RAFFERTY. 
Air — Marco Bozzaris. 
A Yankee stood upon the beach, 

And gazed upon the distant sail. 
His pantaloons were much too short, 
The coat he wore was swallow-tail. 
It was no dream ; I heard him speak — 
"They come,'' he cried, "the Greek, the 

Greek, 
She brings a thousand voters more. 
The ship sailed on ! oh, glorious sight ; 
He danced with joy, his heart was lignt, 
He shouted, sang, but was not "tight," 
That Yankee on the shore. 

An hour passed on, and into port 
The vessel made her way. 
Soon was she moored, the plank put out ; 
Soon chests and bundles lay about, 
Old brogues and caubeens everywhere — 
A thousand Irishmen were there, 
Who laughed as if in sport. 



100 



HIBERNIA ; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD VER. 



Still crowding to the shore they came, 

And one O'Rafferty by name, 

Said to the Yankee then, 

" Stand back, you mummy, long and lean, 

You stare at us ; what do you mean ? 

You seem a regular spalpeen." 

The Yankee said, " Amen." 

A thousand strong, they made their way, 
They crowded through the Court-house 
door, 

The natives all stood back that day, 
As they had done before. 

All but a few who lingered near, 

The new-made citizens to cheer, 

And gladden their poor souls. 

Then when their names were all put down 

Upon the pay-rolls through the town, 

Those freemen sought the polls. 

O'Rafferty still led them on, 

And cheered his chosen band ; 

Vote while a Yankee heart conspires, 

To thwart or baffle our desires ; 

Vote for their cupalos and spires, 

Their money and their land. 

Come to my bosom, lively Pat ! 

Come let me press thee to my breast, 
You soon shall wear a better hat — 

We want your vote, you know the rest. 
An office did you say? ah, yes ! 
An office you shall have, bad cess 
To those who would deny you. Fudge, 
You shall be Senator or Judge, 
Or Park Commissioner. 
And you shall drink the richest wine ; 
A diamond on your shirt shall shine, 
Fast horses you shall drive, 
And like a green bay tree shall thrive — 
All these, dear Pat, are thine. 

It is a mournful fact that the number 
of really lucrative offices is limited in 
America, an evil which the framcrs of 
the Constitutions of the different States 
and the legislators seem so far to have 
overlooked. In consequence of the over- 
sight, thousands of worthy men who have 
settled in the country under the impres- 
sion that all were to be promptly pro- 
vided for, still remain in private life, or 
are doomed to subordinate positions and 
limited incomes. Unless measures are 
speedily taken to remedy the unfortunate 



state of affairs, intense suffering must 
fall upon thousands of our worthy fellow- 
citizens. The local authorities are meet- 
ing the emergency nobly, and tens of 
thousands are being provided for upon 
such terms as make their wages fixed and 
certain, and their labor nominal. Many 
of them forget, for the time, their disap- 
pointment, and, ceasing to curse and up- 
braid those who enticed them to the 
country with promises they did not keep, 
become cheerful and serene. The most 
light-hearted and joyous of them are 
the city haymakers, who make the parks 
ring with their 

SONG. 

As gay as larks, 

In the city parks, 

Do we while our time away, 

And we laugh and sing, 

As our scythes we swing, 

And dream of our coming pay. 

We never sweat, 

And we do not fret, 

But we watch the clock on high ; 

And we laugh and joke, 

And our pipes we smoke, 

As the hours go slowly by. 

We know, alas ! 

Like the tender grass, 

Old time will cut us down, 

But if he is as slow 

As we, we know 

We long shall serve the town. 

On election day, 

To the polls we stray — 

To vote is a right most dear ; 

But we vote the way 

That the bosses say, 

And in charge of the overseer. 

It is fortunate for the people that the 
labor of governing is so much of it left 
to the local authorities. The President 
of the United States, the Senate and the 
Lower House, and some of the State 
Legislatures, are limited in their desire to 
serve their constituents by constitutions 
No such restrictions trammel or embar 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



101 



rass the alderman; free and independent, 
he is left to secure and bestow upon him- 
self, his friends and relations the bless- 
ings of a' good government. Years ago 
it was held that he, with all others who 
controlled public money, or participated 
in public affairs, were subject to the 
laws of the land; but the general diffu- 
sion of knowledge, and civilization in 
its onward march, have scattered such 
absurd whims and wild fancies to the 
four winds. Having disposed of the 
public domains, the money found in the 
public treasury, and pledged the credit 
of the city for a half century to come, 
the New York authorities are expected 
soon to establish a just and uniform re- 
ligion and mode of worship. A simple 
resolution, it is thought, will fix the 
matter, and put an end to disputes and 
controversy. In answer to an advertise- 
ment for plans, numerous suggestions 
have been made, and at one time " Uni- 
versology " seemed about to be made 
the established belief, but an advocate 
of a different doctrine saw the members, 
and used such arguments as deprived 
the people of all benefit to be derived 
from the greatest discovery of the age. 
One point is settled — the religion must 
be self-supporting, which is a matter of 
importance when we consider that the 
churches are to be built at city prices, 
and furnished by those who are author- 
ized to furnish supplies upon the usual 
terms. A license fee will accomplish this. 
No person is to preach, practice, or pro- 
fess the religion so established, or any 
other, until licensed to do so by the pro- 
per authority, and no man will be con- 
sidered a good man until he has taken 
out his license and paid his fee. The 
plan is approved of, and the prospect is 
cheering to a large number of persons 
who hopefully look to be employed in 
the "Church Department" as supervi- 
sors, clerks, inspectors, sextons, choris- 



ters, or in some capacity where the pay 
shall be liberal, and the labor light. A 
large number of applications have been 
handed in by men who seek to be em- 
ployed as bishops and parsons. Among 
them are ex-Commissioners of the 
Police, furniture and carpet dealers, 
harbor-masters, ex-tax assessors, and 
persons highly recommended by the 
" Citizens Association." 

The post of Archbishop is reserved 
for the present chief of a most impor- 
tant city department. 

In 1611, the Bishop of Down and 
Conner was executed in Dublin. The 
crime was perpetrated by Protestants. 
The Bishop met his fate with heroism. 
He was eighty years of age, and 
highly esteemed, the executioners fled, 
and it was difficult to get any one to 
execute the bloody sentence. At last 
an English culprit, under sentence of 
death, performed the murderous office, 
on condition of pardou. This is the 
most prominent instance in Irish history 
where a culprit was used for political 
purposes ; but this practice has now 
become general, and in New York 
scores of indictments are so held that 
they can be used at any time to pre- 
serve the peace, or elect the proper man 
to office. The rulers have to exercise 
the greatest care to prevent public af- 
fairs from falling into the hands of an 
incompetent American rabble, and have 
used the penal laws to that end. 

We have spoken of the officeholder, 
even under the almost perfect system 
discussed in this volume, and which is 
the result of Irish ambition and Ameri- 
can submissiveness. He has much to 
endure. As a candidate, he is sought 
after, petitioned, and looked up to. In 
short, the people expect much from their 
public servants, and of him who aspires 
to fill lucrative and honorable positions. 
His house is thronged with men of 



102 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



power and influence — civil and military 
officers — strong men in the community in 
which they live — statesmen and legisla- 
tors. Morning, noon, and night, he holds 
a grand levee, and his time, character, 
and worldly possessions are at the mercy 
of his enthusiastic supporters and friends. 
We have a short sketch, which, as it 
may throw some light on the subject 
before us, we insert. It seems to refer 
to the home of the candidate, and de- 
scribes some of the persons who frequent 
it. We are struck, as we glance over it, 
with the romantic beauty of true Irish 
poetry. It runs as follows : 

[Enter First Visitor. 
You are wanting votes, they say, 

And I've just called in to see 
If you will not help the lads, 

" And that is what ails me." 
I'm President myself 

Of a club four hundred strong : 
If you want our votes, shell out, 

For I cannot chaffer long. 

[Second Visitor. 
I'm a captain, strong and bold, 

Of a target company, 
And, if you want to win, 

I'm the man you are to " see." 
I mean business Boss, you know, 

And will give you every vote, 
You can make the matter right 

For a hundred dollar note. 

[Third Visitor. 
I'm an influential man, 

And my neighbors want to know 
For whom they'd better vote, 

And have called on me. And so 
I shall have to " see '' the boys, 

Which will cause me some expense, 
Say a twenty-dollar bill — 

Ah ! you are a man of sense. 

[Fourth Visitor. 
You are liberal, they say, 

And I've been advised to call ; 
Would you kindly help us pay 

For a poor man's funeral ? 
He is dead and gone, poor soul ! 

And his name was Tim O'Faly, 
■He was bar-tender, you know, 

For your neighbor, Pat Mullally. 



[Fifth Visitor. 
I'm your friend, as well you know, 

And shall do my very best, 
But I want a little cash — 

You can leave to me the rest. 
Fifty dollars would be right — 

Twenty five ! — ah ! very well — 
How I'll stir the voter's up, 

I will make your money tell. 

We might go on and insert the ap- 
plications of four hundred different char- 
acters, including one man who wanted 
to raise money to buy his wife a set 
of artificial teeth ; another who was 
raising money to bring over a colony 
of Chinamen ; and a third who sought 
means to pay the board of an .intimate 
friend and ex-alderman, who was at the 
time testing the virtues of an inebriate 
asylum. According to the account 
which we have given, the applicants in- 
dicated, in plain language, that they 
wanted money — a thing which they 
seldom do. With a winning smile, and in 
a confidential tone, they usually call for 
a little &n-ance, as though they feared 
that a direct and positive demand for 
money might shock the person applied 
to. 

Under King James the Irish continu- 
ed to suffer. Nor could Catholics expect 
much favor from a king who publicly 
drank "Damnation to Papists." Plot 
followed plot. O'Neill and O'Donnell, 
two Irish chieftains, fiuding that de- 
struction awaited them in Ireland, fled to 
Rome, where they were supported by the 
Pope and the King of Spain. O'Dogh- 
erty, chief of Innishowen, was insulted 
by one Paulett, and he sought vengeance. 
He marched to Derry, killed Paulett, 
massacred the garrison, and kept up a 
war until July, when he was killed, and 
his* companions captured. Ulster was 
now at the mercy of the land speculators 
— grants were sold to the highest bid- 
der, and there was as much dickering 
and trading in lots of ground, as usually 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER 



103 



precedes the opening of a new avenue, or 
the widening of a street in New York. 

The following lines have been fre- 
quently imitated, sometimes with success. 
They should be sung to the air (if sung 
at all) of " I love to steal awhile away," 
and are known as — 

THE CONFESSION OF A DEMA- 
GOGUE. 

I love to steal the " cash '' away 

From toiling, honest men, 
Who taxes pay without complaint, 

Then go to work again. 

I love the pot-house caucus, where 

My comrades plot with me, 
Contriving plans and stratagems 

To rob the Treasury. , 

I love not toil, but on the best 

I feed ; my cloth is fine ; 
And nightly do I sip champagne — ' 

I'm rather fond of wine. 

I love to bluster, rant, and rav% 

And gabble of the laws, 
A noisy rabble at my heels, 

To give me their applause. 

I love the laborer just when 

I want to get his " cash,'' 
And when 'tis mine, I turn my back 

On all such vulgar trash. 

I love a horse, a good cigar — 
Give me a costly brand — 
And oh, I love to talk about 
"Our free and happy land." 

It sometimes happens that the people 
of America, usually quiet and submissive, 
become restless and exacting, making 
troublesome, and, in the opinion of the 
officials, impertinent demands upon those 
in authority. In such cases the rulers 
never fail to be explicit, a manner of 
treating public impatience and the ill- 
temper of the citizen which is equiv- 
alent to " heaping coals of fire upon his 
head." One of these lucid, exhaustive, 
and entirely satisfactory exhibits is 
copied for general information ; it fully 
illustrates the mode of keeping accounts 



in New York, and shows how carefully 
the officer is to make everything appear 
clear to the tax-payer. 

REPORT OF DISBURSEMENTS. 
Air — ' ' Racing Canawl. ' ' 
Come listen to my story, 

Tax-payers one and all, 
And you shall have the figures 

Since for them you do call. 
For I'm a public servant, 

And my duty I will do, 
As often as you call on me 

I will report to you. 

The above statement is always accom- 
panied by a bland smile from the man 
whose portrait adorns the office of Lud- 
low Street jail. 

One million of your money 

Was paid to "what's his name," 
'Twas due for — well no matter, 

To you 'tis all the same. 
A million more I handed 

To Smith, or Jones, or Brown, 
His name I can't remember now, 

He lives somewhere up town. 

To learn definitely how two millions 
of their money has been expended, gen- 
erally proves very satisfactory to the 
people. 

Five millions went for "so and so," 

Now don't get mad and swear, 
Five millions from the treasury 

Is suclra small affair. 
One million went to "Dummy,'' 

" For what? " now let me see ; 
Well I know he got the money — 

Do you think some came to me ? 

This full and candid account of the 
public funds given by the officer in charge 
of the treasury, caused the people to re- 
gret that they had been so hasty in their 
demand upon him. 

Then on account of sundries, 

Five millions I paid out — 
Why do you look so nervous, gents ? 

Why gaze and stare about ? 
And then for divers ' ' this and that, ' 

Five hundred thousand went. 
John Doe receipted for the cash, 

The money was well spent. 



104 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND TEE WORLD OVER. 



"Et ceteras," two millions ; 

' ' Exhorbitant, perhaps, ' ' 
But I cannot deny, you know, 

Those ' ' horny-handed chaps, ' ' 
The carpenters and plasterers, 

And men who furnish chairs, 
For they are honest men and are 

Correct in their affairs. 

And now, friends, in conclusion, 

Go home and rest at ease, 
For I shall do my very best 
• The people dear to please ; 
My labors are most fearful. 

I am burdened too with care, 
Don't harass me because you miss 

A million " here and there." 

The people saw that they had done 
a good man and a faithful officer great 
injustice by interrupting him, and by 
causing him to waste his time in explain- 
ing a discrepancy, which after all only 
amounted to a few millions. The crowd 
grew smaller and smaller, as one by one 
they quietly slipped away, until but one 
man was left, who made an humble 
apology, and then went at once " to his 
store." 



CHAPTER XX. 

James I. died and left an Office— Not an Amer- 
ican Custom — Charles — 'The Irish propose 
Terms — Cheated — The Commission System — 

Needy Relatives provided for The " Ring " 

thrive — The Wagon-Mounted Bell — The Sailor 
Boy — He declines a Ship — Aversion to Water 
—The Navy — Irish Song of the Navy — Anoth- 
er Song — I Will Never Go Back — Queer Ex- 
pressions — More Nursery Rhymes — Pathetic 
and Apathetic — Lament. 

James I. died in 1625, to the great 
relief of many. He held the highest 
office in England, and it is the subject of 
wonder to Americans that be should die 
while holding so good a position. Ameri- 
can officials never die until after their 
term of office expires, and even when 
they have been appointed for life, they 
continue to exist, year after year, and may 



be seen moving through the corridors and 
halls of the public buildings, bald-headed, 
ancient-looking, and, in many cases, 
covered with a green mould, indicative 
of extreme age ; in fact, they only retain 
enough of life to cling to the office and 
draw their salaries, which their heirs 
immediately appropriate ; for so far as 
they are concerned, death has performed 
its office, and the estate of the ancestor 
is theirs. 

James died "the wisest fool in Eu- 
rope" — (the reader will note, with pleas- 
ure, the fact, that the remark is lim- 
ited to the other side of the Atlantic) — 
and Charles I. ascended the throne. No 
matter how much labor or responsibility 
there is attached to an office, there are 
some always to be found who will brave 
it all, so powerful are the charms which, 
in their eyes, attend rank and power. 

Scarcely had Charles taken his seat 
upon tht throne, when the Irish began to 
ask favors, and their requests were backed 
by that argument which has had so 
much weight, and has been so often 
•used in America. They offered the 
King £120,000, in return for which 
he was to give them certain "graces." 
They promptly paid the first instalment, 
and found they had been cruelly cheated, 
aud about the same time trouble com- 
menced. The Mayor of Dublin, with a 
file of soldiers, entered the Franciscan 
Church and defiled it, breaking the 
statue of St. Francis. The same wretches 
turned loose in the rooms of the City 
Hall would cut and disfigure the paint- 
ings, and, perhaps, would be desperate 
enough to defile those carpets, and break 
some of those costly chairs. 

Under Charles, a system of commis- 
sions was adopted which has served 
as a guide to similar action in America. 
A " Commission of defective titles" was 
established, which differed from a New 
York commission in this, that it took 



EIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



105 



from the citizen the land itself, instead 
of requiring him to pay over its value 
in money, in the form of taxes and as- 
sessments. It seems to harden a man's 
heart to make him a commissioner, and, 
in the case in point, they became entirely 
remorseless, while the people were sacri- 
ficed to satisfy a hungry and all-devour- 
ing ring — for such was the term applied 
to the commission of defective titles in 
the days of Charles. Had the members 
of the fortunate circle been satisfied 
with wealth and power for themselves 
alone, the people would not have com- 
plained ; but no sooner did they show 
signs of prosperity than a crowd of 
needy relations came forward, all of 
whom sought to be "taken care of." 
On they came, sons and sons-in-law; 
brothers and brothers-in-law; fathers 
and fathers-in-law, and whole troops of 
cousins; but the people remained sub- 
missive, and the relatives were all boun- 
teously provided for. How they lived 
and flourished, may be inferred from an 
old chant which the subjects of the 
King were wont to console themselves 
with. They sang it and forgot their 
wrongs; or, if here and there a man neg- 
lected to do so, it was because he was 
" busy at his store;" but whether they 
took any measures for self-defense or 
not, most of them felt that they were 
oppressed and imposed upon by — 

THE RING. 
Who snuff a contract from afar, 
Stick to the Treasury like tar, 
And all our hopes and prospects mar ? 
The Eing. 

Who live in luxury and sin, 
Wear broadcloth fine, and diamond pin, 
' ' Yet toil not, neither do they spin ? ' ' 
The Eing. 

Who talk about the people dear, 
Are ready, with deceitful tear, 
Denouncing crime in terms severe ? 

The Eing. 



Who with the perjured "Lobby " deal, 
Improving every chance to steal, 
Yet would their many frauds conceal ? 
The Eing. 

Who drink champagne when " on a lark,' 
Eat costly dinners after dark, 
And drive fine ' ' turnouts ' ' in the Park ? 
The Eing. 

Who haunt our legislative halls, 
Give oyster suppers, fancy balls, 
And on the legislator calls ? 

The Eing. 

Who love to banquet and imbibe, 
(A squandering, dissipated tribe), 
And gain their object with a bribe? 

The Eing. 

Who morning, noon and night conspire, 
And labor hard, and never tire, 
For money — still their hearts' desire ? 
The Eing. 

Who speculate in gold and stocks, 
Know how to stuff the ballot-box, 
And always live like ' ' fighting cocks ' ' ? 
The Eing. 

Who give their wives and daughters fail 
Such velvets fine, and diamonds rare, 
As make the gazing rabble stare ? 

The Eing. 

Who like a serpent lie in coil, 
And watch, while honest people toil, 
Then claim their cash as lawful spoil ? 
The Eing. 

Who gabble much, and loudly prate 
Of war and peace, affairs of state, 
Applaud the bad, the good berate ? 

The Eing. 

Who never heed the orphan's cry, 
Nor pause when suffering want is nigh, 
Nor give, but coldly saunter by ? 

The Eing. 

Who utter oaths which are not true, 
A bad, demoralizing crew, 
Who prey upou the revenue ? 

The Eing. 

And who deserve the people's hate, 
The public scorn, a shameful fate ? 
Vile foes to Order and the State, 

The Eing. 

But they had other ways of spending 
money, and at that time practices and 



106 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



habits came into use which hare not yet 
been abandoned. One of the most ex- 
pensive pieces of machinery invented for 
the instruction and the amusement of 
the people was a mounted bell. It was 
an " Evening bell " sometimes, and at 
other times it would appear in the morn- 
ing; in short, it was limited to no time 
nor place, but rolled about on wheels. 

All sorts of strange, and even unkind 
remarks were indulged in, as it passed, 
tolling through the streets. Some said, 
in a homely way, that the ringing of the 
bell meant that the people were to be 
" rung" into some new imposition. Cer- 
tain it is, the people regarded it with 
fear, mingled with sorrow, except when 
it was brought out to toll for a dead 
politician. 

The bell belongs, of course, to an 
Irishman, and he has a song about it, 
which is also Irish, and as we desire to 
give to the reader all those things which 
illustrate or throw any light on Irish 
character or affairs, we give the 

WAGON-MOUNTED BELL. 

Lo the wagon with the bell ; 

Very well. 

Do we understand the story it doth tell t 

With its noisy banging, whanging, 
As it moves along in sight, 

And a rough, discordant clanging. 

If the ringer was but hanging, 
We would chuckle with delight. 

Hear it sing 

Of the "King," 
And their paying operations ; ah, too well 
Do we comprehend the story of the bell, 

bell, bell ? 
Bell, bell, bell, bell, 
Bell, bell, bell, 

From the banging and the whanging of 
the bell? 

Hear the wagon-mounted bell, 

Costly bell ! 

Every stroke is but the knell 

Of a fifty-dollar bill ; 

But they ring it, ring it, still, 



And the most offensive sound, 
All around, 

Seems to float with a moan, 

And the people pause to listen, then they 
groan ; 
They have found 
That to "tote " the bell around 
They are bound ; 

But what they mean to say, 

Is that they the bills must pay, 
For the swinging and the ringing of the 

bell. 
Of the bell, bell, bell, 
Of the bell, bell, bell, bell, 
Bell, bell, bell, 

For the ringing and the swinging of the 
bell. 

Hear the crowd-collecting, bell ; 

By no swell 

Is it swayed and swung about, is the bell ; 

But a servant of the "King," 
With a nose that tells of rum, 

Keeps it ever on the swing, 
Tolling come, come, come, 

See the ponderous wagon roll, 

And the toll, toll, toll, 

Tells a story of the Ring, not the, whole, 

But of money that they stole ; 
Just a portion of their crimes, 
As it chimes, 

Does it tell 
Something of the paying job, 
And the cash put in the fob, 

Of some tricky politician 

Improving his condition, 
Till, instead of carting drrt, 
He puts on a linen shirt, 
And then, impudent and pert, 

With a grin, 

He displays a diamond pin, 
Yes, and then to honest labor bids a long 

farewell. 
And this is the story of the bell, bell, bell, 
Of the bell, bell, bell, bell, 
Bell, bell, bell, 
'Tis the pretty little story of the bell. 

'Tis the rolling and the tolling of the bell, 

Same old bell ; 
And the anxious people hear it, 
And have learned to dread and fear it. 

If they will but toll the knell 

Of the men who' ring the bell. 
Why they can 

Brand the wretch who takes a bribe, 

Scatter all the shameless tribe, 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



107 



Every man. 
But they tolerate them still, 

While the " Ring " their zeal redouble, 

Nor do they take the trouble 
To conceal, 
But reveal 

To the hesitating crowd, 

While they bluster long and loud, 
Schemes of fraud. 

Then then harpies and their minions 
Stand around them and applaud. 

Now 'tis ringing, 

Yes, and swinging. 
Hear the knell of the bell, 
Of the bell, bell, bell, 
Of the bell, bell, bell, bell, 
Bell, bell, bell, 

Of the crowd-collecting, cash-devouring 
bell. 

One of the beneficial results of Irish 
statesmanship, is the fact that the pub- 
lic men are not permitted to become in- 
dependent of the people whom they are 
called to serve. This fact was fully illus- 
trated when the Mayor of New York ap- 
peared in a suit of green, as we have 
already related. But we have still an- 
other evidence — when the same official 
made his appearance before an astonish- 
ed but delighted congregation of sailors 
in a blue flannel shirt with rolling collar, 
a pair of broad-bottomed pantaloons, a 
pea jacket, a tarpaulin hat, that looked 
as though it might have weathered Cape 
Horn, voyage after voyage, for the last 
half ceutury, and holding in his left 
cheek a quid that, in the language of 
the gratified tars, " made his face look 
shipshape ;" and thus attired he pro- 
ceeded to lay the corner-stone of a 
building to be dedicated to the use of 
seamen. This circumstance is men- 
tioned to illustrate the difference be- 
tween a' government which makes its 
officials the servants of the people, and 
a despotism like the government of Eng- 
land or Japan — the former delighting 
in the imprisonment of Fenians, and the 
latter inflictiug hari-kari upon their citi- 



zens, without the intervention of a jury 
In the case referred to, the powerful 
officer of a great metropolis, by a little 
condescension, and for the cost of a suit 
of sailors' clothes, won the hearts of 
many brave sons of the ocean. 

Water has never been a popular ele- 
ment with the Irish, and in this fact 
we divine why the Navy of the United 
States is still controlled by Americans. 
The natives would gladly have handed 
it over to their Irish rulers, but their 
aversion to water has caused them so 
far to refuse. We have met but one 
distinguished sailor in Irish history since 
the days of St. Brendan. She was a 
woman ; and we explain the fact that 
the navy is not now subject to Irish 
management in the manner above stated, 
rather than assume that it has been 
overlooked or omitted ; for Irish people 
are by far too vigilant to admit of the 
latter theory. What it will be when 
the O'Tooles are made admirals, and 
the O'Flahertys vice-admirals, and the 
Gilloolys commanders, and the subor- 
dinate positions filled by the Collopys 
and the Dooleys, is more than we can 
say ; but we do know what it is now, 
and what it was when civil war came 
upon this country. It was then an 
honor ; and when men saw the officers 
firm in their patriotism, and the men 
true to their oaths and flag, they took 
heart, and felt that all was not lost. 
The historian who takes up this sub- 
ject where we leave it (for we have no 
idea that any writer will feel obliged 
to go over the same ground), will, we 
predict, record of the Navy of the 
United States that it was the last of 
American institutions to pass into the 
hands of strangers. Even the Irish 
themselves applaud the men who man 
it, as the following song, composed 
by a clerk in the City Hall, goes to 
prove : 



108 



HIBERN1A; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



When landsmen false betrayed our flag, 

The banner of the free, 
Defenders brave Columbia had 

Upon the briny sea. 
When tempests lashed the Ship of State, 

And storms of treason roared, 
Our ships still bore that flag aloft, 
With loyal hearts on board. 

Then pass the wine-cup lively, boys, 

And drain it to the brave, 
The gallant tars, who man our ships 
Upon the briny wave. 

When traitors vowed our starry flag 

To humble in the dust ; 
When those who claimed the greatest love — 

'Twas dangerous to trust — 
Even then our Navy firmly stood 

'Gainst every threat and bribe, 
And spurned alike the rage and smiles 

Of all the shameless tribe. 

Then pass the wine-cup, etc. 

It was to honor men like -these that the 
mayor of a great commercial city put on 
the dress of a sailor. The people, charm- 
ed by his conduct, at once offered him a 
ship, and an unlimited leave of absence. 
He wept, overcome by emotion, but 
did not go out upon the deep. Further- 
more, we have the solemn promise from 
the rulers that they will not desert the 
country, and we have every reason to 
believe that they will stand to it as long 
as there is a dollar in the treasury. 
They are fond of singing — 

OH ! I'LL NEVEK GO BACK. 
Aik — li Oh! Carry me back to Old Virginy." 
Across the say, full many a day, 

I' ve worked from morn till night, 
Then I'd go to the wake and my toddy take, 

And frolic, smoke, and fight. 
But now I'm in America, 

Where Irish rule and reign, 
I will never go back, I will never go back 
To Dublin town again. 

I will never go back, 
I will never go back 
To Dublin town again. 

My coat is fine, and my brogues they shine, 
And the Yankees don't complain, 

Though I tax them well, and their cash I take 
For horses and champagne. 



My name is Mister Mulligan, 

And I'm living now in style, 
Oh ! I'll never go back, I will never go back 

Again to Erin's Isle. 

Oh ! I' 11 never go back, etc. 

A long farewell to Dublin town, 

A long farewell to Cork, 
I have no care, no trouble now, 

For I am in New York. 
My pick and spade are thrown aside, 

I will not work any more, 
Oh ! I'll never go back, I will never go back 

To Ireland's dreary shore. 

Oh ! I'll never go back, etc' 

We have mentioned some of the 
queer expressions of the Irish. We 
have others which relate to public life 
in America, and may not prove entirely 
uninteresting to the reader, especially 
the one who contemplates launching 
out upon the Irish sea of politics. 

" A put-up Job," " A Deal," " A lit- 
tle Job," " Dead Beat," "In the Ring," 
" A Lunkhead," " Knocking Down," 
"Cropping," "Dummy," "Perks," "A 
fair Divy," " Give me a Lay" — such are 
some of the terms used in public trans- 
actions, and which indicate, as we think, 
the high tone given to politics, and the 
honor to be gained by entering public 
life. 

We have found more of that valuable 
manuscript before referred to, which, in 
the garb of a simple child's ditty, gives 
a true history and a correct idea of the 
customs, habits, and the manners of a 
people long since gone on that journey 
referred to by a distinguished English 
poet. We now have hopes of being 
able to complete the poem. 

M stands for " my uncle," 

Obliging and good, 
Who got for his cash 

All the interest he could. 

N stands for New York, 

An industrious hive, 
Where Irishmen govern, 

And " King ' ' leaders thrive. 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



109 



stands for O'Kay, 

O'Hall and O'Connor, 
O'Rourke and O'Flaherty — 

Men of great honor. 

P stands for perquisites — 

Aldermen laugh, 
And count up their gains 

As their toddies they quaff. 

Americans are apathetic. Not so with 
the Irish ; they have always been pa- 
thetic. Forgetful of sorrow, even the 
miseries of Ireland, have not silenced 
entirely the " Harp of Erin." Still do 
they sing their songs of mirth and rev- 
elry ; and when a countryman like 
" Miles O'Reilly " dies, they, as of old, 
sink into a tearful 

LAMENT. 
'Tis past! his harp, forever still, 

No more will yield those witching strains 
"Which once our listening hearts did thrill : 

'Tis hushed, and saddest silence reigns. 
The notes that cheered declining age, 

And thrilled the bold aspiring youth, 
That served our sorrow to assuage, 

Or spoke of loyalty and truth ; 

That promised liberty to slaves, 

And nerved them 'mid the roar and rattle, 
Where the glad sound of breaking chains 

Was mingled with the din of battle ; 
That roused the drooping warrior's ire, 

Till foemen fled dismayed before him, 
And threw a heaven-born halo round 

The starry flag that floated o er him. 

Oh ! take the harp and sing again, • 

In measures borrowed from above, 
Of scenes where joy and friendship reign, 

Of honor bright and melting love, 
Of manly hearts that spurn disgrace, 

Of love-lorn maidens sad and weeping, 
Of thoughts that shine in childhood's face, 

Of hopes that in their hearts he sleeping. 

Cold, cold in death, no more he sings 

The strains that stirred our hearts to 
wonder, 
His harp all broken lies, with strings 

Untuned, and rudely torn asunder. 
Weeping they stand around his grave — 

The old, the young, the bright, the fair, 
His comrades of the fight, the brave, 

And Freedom wears the cypress there. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

Wanted, An American Aristocracy — " We have 
It " — Oh! if I was an Irishman ; Air, Maggie 
May— Unlimited Power of Local Rulers— Spir- 
ited Natives — Long, Long Ago— Cromwell— 
His Team — Six Flanders Mares— His Money— 
Lo the Poor Eagle— The Flag reformed— Crom- 
well lands in Ireland — Zeal in Religious Mat- 
ters — A Protracted Meeting — A Revival — A 
Pious Letter— Curious Discovery — The Song 
of the Newsboy. 

America has long sighed for an aris- 
tocracy. To form a class of the char- 
acter needed, out of the plain psalm- 
singing descendants of the Puritans, was 
found to be impossible. No matter 
what amount of money they accumu- 
lated, they continued in trade still ; and 
as butchers and bakers, or cotton-spin- 
ners, they sought to make still more. 
Besides it was discovered that men 
who made money by a systematic appli- 
cation to business, were slow about 
laying it out ; it was found that to be 
lavish and princely in the expenditure 
of mon^y, one must have a way of re- 
ceiving it without toil or anxiety. All 
these matters have been satisfactorily 
arranged. Nothing can be more prince- 
ly or grand than the style of living 
adopted by the American local rulers. 
Their incomes are only limited by the 
willingness of the people to endure tax- 
ation, and to that there seems to be no 
limit. Lofty palaces rise in their view, 
extensive grounds, beautified and adorn- 
ed by all that genius, stimulated by 
rich rewards, can invent, spring up as if 
by magic ; stables that eclipse the equine 
palaces of the Old World — in short eve- 
ry thing necessary to make the favored 
class imposing, grand, and painfully 
impressive in the eyes of the taxpayers, 
is freely furnished. British critics and 
casuists have intimated, that with all 
this grandeur and fabulous display of 
wealth, there is something in the man- 
ner of the nobles indicating a low ori- 



110 



EIBERN1A ; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD VER. 



gin, a coarseness that savors of the 
shanty and the hod. But even this is 
an advantage, for it pleases the people, 
who are thus reminded that the no- 
bility which they see so much of, is of 
their own creation, and not of that de- 
testable character known as hereditary. 
The inheritor of wealth in America is 
usually a quiet, inoffensive man, who 
dresses plainly, superintends the educa- 
tion of his children, and has a care to 
the management of his business. The 
true nobleman is he who is in direct 
communication with the public treasury, 
or has access to it through the influ- 
ence of powerful relations or friends. 
A man will not scatter his money in a 
truly gentlemanly manner who is com- 
pelled to earn it, as the simple-minded 
of this world have it, " honestly." 

The people look up to the men they 
have raised to such a height of fame 
and grandeur ; in fact, they are obliged 
to look up, straining their eyes to see 
them. Lofty is the pinnacle some of 
them occupy. A few natives figure 
among them, but most of them came to 
us from "across the ocean blue." Few 
Americans aspire to be aristocrats, and 
by far the greater part of them are con- 
tented with being allowed to foot the 
bills : but now and then we find one 
sighing, and singing — 

OH, IF I WAS AN IKISHMAN ! 

Air — ' ' Maggie May. ' ' 



Oh, if I was an Irishman ! 

For office I would run, 
And when the perquisites came in, 

Oh, would' nt I have fun — 
I'd smoke the very best cigars ; 

I'd drive a pah - of bays ; 
And when I travelled up the road, 
Oh ! how the boys would gaze. 
Oh, if I was an Irishman ! 

For office I would run, 
And when the perquisites came in, 
Oh, wouldn't I have fun. 



Oh, if I was an Irishman ! 

The politician, keen, 
Who sought my aid and influence, 

Would never find me "green." 
I'd say, your promises so fair, 

To me are naught but trash ; 
And he should only get my vote 

By planking down the cash. 

Oh, if I was an Irishman ! etc. 

Alas ! I'm not an Irishman — 

But do not coldly frown ; 
It was no fault of mine that I 

Was born in Boston town. 
Oh, had I first beheld the light 

In Dublin or in Cork, 
I would, next day, have sailed away, 

And settled in New York. 

Oh, if I was an Irishman ! etc. 

As we have stated, the powers of the 
local rulers in America are not lim- 
ited ; those of the President are. He 
must respect the Constitution — but the 
authorities of New York, for instance, are 
able to accomplish an unlimited amount 
of good for the reason that they are left 
entirely unrestrained. Years ago public 
opinion seemed inclined to fix limits* to the 
power of the ruler, but public opinion, 
intrusive and presumptuous, is dead, and 
Aldermen, Commissioners, and Chiefs of 
Departments are free, thanks to Irish 
nerve and boldness, and the law-abiding 
disposition of the people ; but there are 
those who complain even at this, persons 
of that unhappy class who are continu- 
ally pursuing those things which are 
new, but, at the same time, cling tena- 
ciously to those which are old ; we ofteu 
hear them crooning about, to the 

Air — "Long, Long Ago," 

Once they were jealous and ready to fight, 
Long, long ago— long, long ago ; 

With guns in their hands, on the side of the 
right, 
Long, long ago — long ago. 

But tamely submissive now, day after day, 

Their rights and their money are taken away ; 

Yet did they the temper of freemen display ; 

Long, long ago — long, long ago. 



HIBERN1A; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



Ill 



Once they were freemen, and that was their 
boast, 

Long, long ago — long, long ago ; 
And made "The American Eagle" their 
toast, 

Long, long ago — long ago. 
Now they are busy each day at the store — 
Vainly do good men their silence deplore — 
Once they had spirit their rights to restore, 

Long, long ago — long ago. 

Cromwell left London in June, 1649, 
in " a coach drawn by six gallant 
Flanders mares," a popular style of 
turnout in America with men of certain 
well-defined tastes, but one which has, 
so far, been carefully avoided by gen- 
tlemen. Like the men who ride behind 
six mares in America, he had made a 
large amount of money in a short time, 
and had $1,000,000, which in that day 
was counted a haudsome sum, though a 
New York office-holder may now be 
tempted to smile at its insignificance. 
Cromwell was in office, and no doubt 
the perquisites gathered while faithfully 
performing his duty were laid away to 
accumulate. To those who are disposed 
to ridicule the mention of t^ie trifling 
sum of one million of dollars in this con- 
nection, we explain, that Cromwell only 
had the British Empire to prey upon, 
while the Irish-American ruler, with 
New York under his heel, casts longing 
glances towards the White House, the 
Capitol, and the Treasury, at Washing- 
ton. The natives will aid them, as they 
always have, but we fear that such a 
change will seriously affect the health of 
the Eagle — in fact, he is not well now, 
we conclude, from the following : 

Lo ! the poor Eagle has received a whack, 

Be gorra ! see him stretched upon his back ; 

A neat shillalah did the little trick, 

And tapped his claret— sure he's very sick ! 

He views the club, a handy little bat, 

And dying, says, What made you doit, Pat? 

Such effusions serve to keep alive a 
patriotic spirit in the country, and the 



native listens, and resolves, that if he 
lives until the election, he will vote for 
another Irishman. He looks up to where 
his country's flag is waving in the breeze, 
and thinks how beautiful it might be 
with a few changes, and then he sings : 

O'er every sea our flag is borne, 

In every port it floats, 
Defended by true Irish hearts, 

Sustained by Irish votes. 

Would we our honor still preserve, 

Our banner still protect, 
Then bravely rally at the polls, 

And Irishmen elect. 

" Emblem of Liberty," we say, 

Wherever it is seen, 
And yet our hearts still feel a pang 

Because it is not green. 

And if it does not stir our pride, 

Our loyal bosoms fire, 
It is, perhaps, because its folds 

Still lack an Irish Lyre 

Flag of the loyal and the free, 

In every land displayed, 
No more of silk, but thou shalt be 

Of Irish linen made. 

Cromwell landed in Ireland with sev- 
eral troops of dragoons, and eight regi- 
meuts of soldiers on oot, his money, a 
large supply of bibles, and scythes to 
cut down the grain, intending to starve 
the Irish. He proclaimed against drunk- 
enness, for Cromwell was a very tempe- 
rate man, as puritans always are; be- 
sides he feared that the habit which his 
followers had of taking too much, might 
interfere with his Irish campaign. His 
great hope was to get up a revival of 
religion, and was fully prepared with 
arguments, such as Irishmen are so fond 
of using in their zeal to make converts. 
The good man was intent upon convert- 
ing the people of Ireland, and was much 
grieved when the people of Drogheda 
resisted him and postponed the good 
work ; they yielded, however, and then 
did bis religiou get the better of him, 



112 



IIIBERNIA ; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD VER 



and he handed over the officers and 
men, who were murdered in cold blood. 
As soon as the men were disposed of, 
the soldiers commenced on the women 
and children, and the affair grew into 
a protracted meeting, which lasted five 
days. 

The heart of the great revivalist 
was roused, and he prayed and sang 
hymns, his men all the time at work. 
Then he wrote to England : 

" It hath pleased God to bless our 
endeavors at Drogheda ; after battery, 
we stormed it. The enemy were three 
thousand in the town ; they made a 
stout resistance. I believe we put to 
the sword the whole number of defend- 
ants. I do not think that thirty escaped 
with their lives — those that did are in 
safe custody for the Barbadoes. This 
hath been a marvellous great mercy. 
The great thing was done in the spirit 
of God." 

A strange discovery was made in 
New York, just after the destruction of 
a building which had been for many 
years occnpied as a museum. Upon re- 
moving the rubbish, and reaching the 
corner-stone, many curious articles were 
found, such as take the mind back to 
the ages that are passed. Among the 
articles found were : 

A red ticket, marked " Naturalize, 
and charge Tammany." 

One lottery-ticket. 

A pair of brogues. 

A clay pipe. 

An invitatiou to the Sorosis. 

A mermaid. 

A street-car conductor. 

A song—" Kiss me for my mother ! " 

One slung-shot. 

Plan of the largest dry goods store 
in the world. 

Streetcar hook. 

Piece of wooden pavement. 

A good servant-girl. 



A free railroad pass. 

A Cardiff giant. 

An Alderman's pocket-book. 

A pneumatic tunnel. 

A Tombs shyster. 

A hand-organ. 

A Life Insurance agent. 

Big Six. 

Also a piece of manuscript, from which 
we have copied the foregoing sketches, 
translating them from the original Irish. 
Also, a small and much dilapidated 
piece of paper, upon which was written, 
in an ancient-looking hand, and the char- 
acters dimmed and nearly obliterated : 

THE SONG OF THE NEWSBOY. 

Out on the street, and the air is keen, 

And the stars above are beaming ; 
And the busy crowd through the day so loud, 

Are sleeping now and dreaming. 
Out of the pinching frost and cold, 

Out of the wind that whistles by — 
But wait 'till my papers I get and fold, 
And I'll rouse them then with my early 
cry : 
Here's the morning papers ! 
'Tisday. 'tis day, 

Slumber no more of the hours away. 
Here's the morning papers ! 
Come buy, come buy ; 
And they wake at the sound of the 
newsboy's cry. 

Out on the street, and the sun is up — ■ 

Into the street they are coming ; 
And the heavy tread of the crowd I hear, 

And the workshop's busy humming. 
The day has come and they gather fast — 
The young, the jolly, the old and gray, 
And they know and feel that the lot of man, 
Is an earnest fight to his latest day. 
Here's the morning papers ! 
They pause to buy, 
Then hurry onward ; and still I cry 
Here's the morning papers ! 
For the town is alive, and the roar and 

rattle, 
Tells a tale of strife, and life's hard- 
fought battle. 

Out on the street, and the shades of night 
Have settled upon the city ; 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND TEE WORLD OVER. 



113 



And many a laugh and song I hear, 

And many a call for pity. 
Hungry children now creep to bed — 

And suffering, too, for a crust of bread ; 
But still are the songs of pleasure sung, 
Though many a heart with grief is wrung. 
Here's the evening papers ! 
Come buy them, pray, 
For I mus,t be up at break of day. 
Here's the evening papers ! 
Tis still my shout — 
Who'll take the next one, and buy 
me out I 

Out on the street, and I struggle hard 
'Midst the bustle, rush, and clatter ; 
Nor heed the sun, nor the driving rain, 

But through the mud I patter. 
A pleasant look, and a gentle word, 

And no complaint from my lips is heara. 
I will brave the heat and the winter's cold, 
And cry 'till my papers all are sold — 
Here's the morning papers ! 
Play stop and choose ; 
Only a penny ; and all the news. 
Here's the morning papers ! 
Come, with me deal, 
For I cannot beg, and I will not steal. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

English Characteristics — Religion and Real Es- 
tate — Transplanted— Barney Doon— The Poet's 
Grandson — American Industry — Groundless 
Fears — The Ballot-box safe — Charles II. — Ban- 
quets and Celebrations — The Charge of the 
Grub Brigade — Public Opinion — Its Mistakes 
— The Majority restrained — Calamities thus 
avoided — Colonization — Happy Results — Out 

in the Cold— Irish Cattle— Bulls, etc The 

Mayor and his Bull — A Frisky Brute — Sup- 
pressed by Clubs and Bullets— Farmers- 
Townsmen — Voices from the Barn-yard — 
Yankee Poetry disappearing — But one Poem 
left, " That's what's the matter with Hannah " 
— Nivermore— A Courteous Letter. 

Two peculiarities in the English char- 
acter have caused Ireland much discom- 
fort — piety, and a fondness for real 
estate. Looking back upon the^ centu- 
ries of the past, and terrified by the long 
list of outrages suffered by the Irish at 
the hands of the British, even the stern 



soul of the Englishman faltered, and for 
the moment his heart gave way to fear ; 
but he soon rallied, and with his return- 
ing courage came a firm resolution to 
convert the Irish to the British idea of 
dealing with spiritual matters, and quick- 
ly following this latter aspiration, came 
a desire to own Irish land. 

About this time one Mr. Hicks took 
charge of Church matters in Ireland, 
who promised and agreed to preach "as 
often as the Lord would let him," which 
is the only limitation fixed to the labors 
of American divines, except the usual 
stipulation, that they shall be allowed 
to visit the fashionable watering-places 
during the heated term. 

Nine hundred and sixty thousand 
pounds was claimed by the English, 
who did not wish to appear avaricious, 
and concluded to take the amount in 
laud. Munster, Leinster, and Ulster 
supplied the land for a splendid " enter- 
prise," for the whole was distributed by 
lot. It was generously provided that 
the officers and soldiers should have the 
land left after the drawing, which put 
them much in the condition of the New 
York taxpayers, who are left to enjoy 
such of their own lauds and moneys 
as the rulers decide to leave in their 
hands. 

The reasons why the peasauts were 
allowed to remain after the gentry were 
driven out, were thus stated : 

1st. Because the English wanted 
them to till the ground. 

2d. They hoped to make them Prot- 
estants when the priests were removed. 

3d. The settlers required servants. 

Americans have good reason to hope 
that upon similar grounds they will be 
permitted to remain in their native land, 
and they are grateful. At night they 
love to gather round the festive board, 
and quaffing their Jersey cider, which 
they fondly imagiue to be the richest 



114 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



and rosiest of wine, they raise their 
voices, and sing to the good old Irish 
air of 

BARNEY DOON. 

Resistless time is on the wing, 

And swiftly glide the passing years, 
No longer then to sorrow cling, 
Or yield to unavailing tears. 
But drink to-night, while pleasure bright, 

Beams in each eye and warms each heart, 
Clasp every hand, and drain the bowl 
To Love and Friendship ere we part. 

We cannot shun stern fate's decrees, 
And age will come with locks. of white, 

But we the present hour may seize, 
And triumph o'er our cares to-night. 
Then drink to-night, etc. 

For friends abroad we breathe a prayer, 
And pledge them in the rosy wine ; 

Where'er they roam may joy be there, 
And love around their pathway shine. 
Then drink to-night, etc. 

And when the hour shall come to part, 

To bid the final, last adieu, 
The thought last lingering in my heart, 

Shall be of love, kind friends, for you. 
Then drink to-night, etc. 

Then banish every cankering care 
That casts a shadow o' er the soul ; 

Drink, drink to friendship and the fair, 
Nor leave one drop within the bowl. 
Then drink to-night, etc. 

William Spenser, grandson of the 
poet, was one of the " transplanted." 
His grandfather had, seventy years be- 
fore, taken the estates of the Fitz Ger- 
alds, and now Cromwell's soldiers called 
upon him to hand them over to them, 
notwithstanding he was English, and had 
adopted the protestant religion. So 
earnest were the soldiers in their demand, 
that even Cromwell did not think it pru- 
dent to oppose them. The old cause of 
irritation existed — the English were in- 
tent upon saving the souls of the Irish, 
and they were not willing to have them 
saved in the English fashion. This 
greatly exasperated the pious followers 
of Cromwell, and they proceeded, with 



the enthusiasm of Ribbonmen, with their 
work of love ; but they found the Irish 
as firm and as resolute as are the follow- 
ers of the Prince of Orange. 

Such troubles can never occur in 
America, for there the natives stand 
ready to adopt any religion for the sake 
of peace. The belief and mode of wor- 
ship might, at first, be a little repulsive 
to them, but they will adopt it, rather 
than be long engaged in a controversy 
that keep then*' away from the store. 

The industry of the Americans pre- 
cludes them from taking an active part 
in public affairs. This explains their 
willingness to hand over their govern- 
ment to strangers. It is estimated that 
ten per cent, of the natives do not even 
vote. There are those who argue that 
the act of voting is something more thau 
a right — that it is an absolute duty, and 
say that if one man has a right to absent 
himself from the polls, all have ; and 
that in the latter case the wheels of 
government would cease to move. But 
those of us who have studied public 
affairs, know full well that there will al- 
ways be a few who will continue to ex- 
ercise the right of suffrage, and that that 
enterprising, public-spirited few, by cast- 
ing a large number of votes each, and 
aided by the persons selected to count 
the ballots at night, are fully competent 
to keep up the number, so as to make it 
look respectable in the eyes of those 
totally ignorant of the circumstances. 

Cromwell established a court, which 
got the name of " The Slaughter House." 
No such tribunal has ever been estab- 
lished on American soil; but there has 
been one organized for more pacific pur- 
poses, and it is seriously called the 
" Citizen Factory." It is described as a 
cunning piece of machinery of American 
invention, which has only to be fed with 
brogues, old hats, corduroys, shillalahs, 
clay pipes, and balbriggan stockings, to 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



115 



inrn out vast swarms of voters, com- 
pared with whom the natives sink into 
usignificance, and against whom they 
ire utterly powerless. 

Charles ascended the throne in 1660, 
md the Irish still had their trials, which 
>vere generally followed by executions; 
3ut all this did not prevent them from 
gratifying their love of literature — they 
ipplied themselves industriously to the 
study of political economy, law, and 
such subjects as fitted them to perform 
;he duties of statesmen, legislators, and 
jurists, under a democratic form of gov- 
ernment. And even in the midst of 
;hese dry matter-of-fact investigations, 
lo they seem to have had frequent 
visits from the muses — iu truth, the 
graces are their friends; the muses 
ielight to linger with, and the gods love 
them, and yet they do not die youug. 

It vvas common at one time to cele- 
brate certain anniversaries and holidays 
with much pomp, and often with a ban- 
quet; upon such occasions, the nobility 
would prepare a feast for the peasantry, 
and afford them an opportunity to make 
merry for the time being, at least. The 
good old custom was transplanted to 
America, and the Hibernian holiday, 
known as Thanksgiving, is made an oc- 
casion of great joy and festivity. A 
fruitless effort has been made in Eng- 
land by a vain man, who aspires to be 
a poet, to imitate the following poem, 
which is an Irish description of an Irish- 
American Thanksgiving feast — and is 
called 

THE CHARGE OF THE GRUB BRIGADE. 

Half a mile, half a mile, 
Half a mile onward, 
Hungry as grizzly bears 
March the twelve hundred ! 
Bravely they push ahead 
On to where tahles spread, 
Offer them meal and bread, 
Charge the twelve hundred ! 



Forward the Grub brigade, 
None of the fearless stayed — 
Grub waiting, halt they not, 
None of them lingered ; 
Clashing their peaceful steel, 
Longing for one " square meal," 
Forward they limp and reel, 
Nor stayed they, till turkey bones 
Each man had fingered. 

Geese on the right of them, 
Ducks on the left of them, 
Turkeys in front of them — 
Happy twelve hundred ! 
Whiskey they gulped it down 
Without a grin or frown, 
Eating and drinking still, 
Joyful twelve hundred ! 

Each with his knife and fork, 
What wretched slang they talk, 
Munching and crunching while 
Charging on fish and fowl ; 
How the crowd wondered, 
Down with a leg or wing, 
Lord, how the grease they fling, 
Goose fat and Turkey. 
Unbutton vest and waist, 
Then for another taste — 
Not a man blundered, 
Though gorged full as buzzards, 
Marched back the twelve hundred ! 

See the bold captains 
In clean shaven faces, 
Plumes and gilt buttons, 
Swords, scabbards, and laces ; 
An urchin, oh ! how ill-bred, 
Shouts loudly, " feather bed ! " 
" Off with the youngster's head," 
Yell the twelve hundred ! 
'• Murder the whelp " they say — 
Ah ! but he runs away, 
Escapes the twelve hundred ! 

There are, in all communities, those 
who think lightly of public opinion. They 
argue that it has made mistakes in the 
past, and may err in the future. It con- 
demned (they say) Socrates to drink the 
hemlock ; it sent Phocion to execution ; 
it elected Epaminondas city scavenger ; 
it released Barrabbas, the robber, and 
nailed the Saviour of mankind to the 
cross. Such things have been done by 
the voice of the public, and who knows 



116 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



what may occur hereafter. It is barely 
possible that the people of New York 
even, may some day become tired of 
taxation, which oppresses them for the 
benefit of a few ; of frauds, which keep 
them poor, that bold, bad men may 
amass fortunes, and indulge in extrava- 
gant luxuries unknown to him who makes 
his money honestly. 

Matters are now so managed that the 
people can do little injury, for those who 
control public affairs are careful to pre- 
vent the majority from adopting foolish 
measures, or inflicting loss or trouble on 
the state : in other words, they find 
means to override the will of the major- 
ity whenever they think that the public 
good requires that they should do so. 
A law disfranchising the native voters 
would probably be submitted to by the 
peace-loving people, but not without 
murmurs, and more or less discontent. 
To avoid this the rulers accomplish the 
desired object by indirect, but most 
effective means ; for instance, when they 
find that a majority of a community, or 
district, are disposed to elect such a man 
as, in their judgment, ought not to hold 
office, they colonize — that is, they send 
in the requisite number of Irish laborers 
to out-vote the legal electors of the dis- 
trict. Those useful people, under the 
pretense of locating permanently, put 
up their shanties, and commence work in 
the streets, or parks (if to doze and 
slumber in the shade, or on a curbstone, 
can be called labor). When the election 
day comes, in charge of overseers, they 
are led to the polls, when they vote 
the ticket furnished by those having 
them in charge, who are the authorized 
agents of the leading public men. In 
this way a wicked or incompetent ma- 
jority are prevented from filling our 
legislative halls with stubborn, head- 
strong men, who, no doubt, would often- 
times oppose the measures put forward 



by the statesmen, trammel them in their 
efforts to serve their fellow men, and in- 
terfere, generally, with their plans for 
public improvement. Without the ele- 
ment referred to, the disfranchisment of 
the American people could not be ac- 
complished without a positive law to that 
effect. As it is, the great object is secured, 
and the Americans remain in blissful ig- 
norance of the fact, while some of them 
even imagine that they are still freemen 
enjoying the right of suffrage. 

Fifteen thousand Irishmen in New 
York, who were employed just before 
an election to circumvent a wicked ma- 
jority in the manner above set forth, 
were a few days after the election cruelly 
cast, by the men who had used them, 
out upon the charity of a cold and heart- 
less world. For days they waited for 
their wages, shivering and hungry, and 
melted the hearts of the compassionate- 
natives by singing, in plaintive voices — 

"OUT IN THE COLD." 

"Out in the cold !" the election is o'er, 
And we are not wanted, they say, any more ; 
Though the winter is on us, with frost and 

with snow, 
We have voted, and now we are ordered to go. 
How we loitered about, how we lounged in 

the Park, 
And our songs were as light as the lay of the 

lark ; 
But our ballots are taken, and now we are told 
To leave, and, like cattle, put out in the cold. 

"Out in the cold!'' how they whimpered 
and bowed, 

Made speeches on industry, learned and loud, 

Or took Mike, and Jerry, and Pat by the 
hand, 

And called them the sovereigns, the kings 
of the land ; 

And the shrewd politician, who took off his 
hat, 

Smiled his sweetest, and murmured, good 
morning, dear Pat. 

But the young and the strong, and the crip- 
pled and old, 

Have voted, and now are kicked out in the 
cold. 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND TEE WORLD OVER. 



117 



" Out in the cold !'' and now, day after day, 
All ragged and hungry, we wait for our pay. 
"We were courted and nattered, and petted 

and fed, • 
And up to the polls we were shamelessly led ; 
And we voted for men who go dressed in fine 

clothes, 
But each when he meets us now turns up his 

nose — 
Once so bland and persuasive — alas ! we are 

sold, 
And by false politicians put out in the cold. 

The Irish have always taken great 
pains with their cattle, in which they 
feel an honest pride. Their " Bulls " are 
unsurpassed, and made pets of by the 
people of the United States. Usually, 
they are tractable, and easily managed ; 
but sometimes, in a frolicksome mood, 
they have been known to play queer 
pranks, and do more or less damage. 
The Mayor of New York, actuated by 
a desire to amuse and soothe the people, 
turned one of these strange animals loose 
just before the Twelfth of July, in the 
year 1871 ; and the jolly brute evi- 
dently took the great American city for 
a china-shop, for so extravagant did he 
become in his antics and cavortings that 
it took all the police and many regi- 
ments to subdue him. Such was the re- 
sult of an attempt on the part of the 
chief officer of an American community 
to make it appear that he was familiar 
with the subject of bulls, and knew some- 
thing about farming. Since the occasion 
referred to he has not seemed at all am- 
bitious to tell what he knows about cat- 
tle, or the antecedents of his noted bull. 

The best and purest-minded people in 
the world are those who cultivate the soil. 
The wretched sinners, or the politicians 
(which amounts to the same thing), all 
live in town. There do they plan, plot, 
and conspire, while the virtuous farmer 
sits on his porch, and studies out modes of 
selling his produce cheaper, or, reclining 
in the shade of an apple tree, listens to — 



VOICES FROM THE BARN- YARD. 
Up on an old dry limb he sat, 
A crow as black as a parson's hat, 
And he felt so safe on his perch so high, 
That he winked and blinked at the passer-by. 
Along came the farmer bent on fun, 
And he banged away with his loaded gun, 
" You are mine," he cried, with a loud ha ! 

ha! 
And the old crow answered him, caw ! caw ! 
caw! 

Said the man, " You are mine," 

With a ha ! ha ! ha ! 

And the crow flew away 

With a caw ! caw ! caw ! 

The cock sat up on the old barn-door, 
And watched the grain on the threshing-floor, 
Said he, "When the farmer leaves I'll try, 
With my hens and my chickens, a meal of 

rye." 
And he knew the farmer's habits well, 
So he watched the flail as it rose and fell. 
When the good man left then down he flew, 
And he called to his brood with an ooh ! 
ooh ! ooh ! 

The farmer went to the field to 

mow, 
And the cock kept watch till he 

saw him go. 
Then he called his hens, and his 

chickens too, 
With a flap of his wings, and an 
ooh ! ooh ! ooh ! 

The brindle cow, with a sober look, 
Was chewing her cud in a shady nook, 
And she watched her calf — 'twas a pleasant 

sight, 
As it nipped the grass and the daisies white. 
But the butcher came for the frisky calf, 
And he took it away with a cruel laugh ; 
The man and his trade old brindle knew, 
And she mourned for her pet with a moo ! 
moo ! moo ! 

She left the shade by the running 

brook, 
And roamed about with a lonely 

look, 
For what could poor old brindle 

do, 
But wander about with her moo ! 
moo ! moo ! 

The little pig lay in his bed of straw, 
And heard the crow, with his caw ! caw ! 
caw! 



118 



HIBERN1A; OR, IRELAND THE WOULD OVER. 



And he heard the cow, with her moo ! moo ! 

moo ! 
And the crowing cock , with his ooh ! ooh ! 

ooh! 
Said he, ' ' If you'll give me plenty of swill, 
You may caw and moo as much as you will, 
A peck of corn is a meal for me." 
And he squealed and he squealed with his 
owee ! owee ! owee ! 

He heard the sound of the farm- 

mer's flail, 
And he scratched his back on an 

old brown rail, 
" Give me my corn and my swill," 

said he, 
"And you'll hear the less of my 
owee ! owee ! owee ! ' ' 

The night was dark, and the farmer slept, 
When the old dog out from his kennel crept, 
And the hens were awake, and they moved 

about, 
And the old dog knew that the fox was out ; 
And sure enough, in a moment more, 
The speckled hen on his back he bore. 
I am sure, he said, of my supper now, 
And he laughed at the dog and his bow-wow 
wow. 

For the dog was old, and his 

limbs did ache, 
And the fox was cunning and 

wide awake, 
But a young dog lives with the 

farmer now, 
And the fox keeps away from his 
bow-wow-wow. 

We cannot tell what the author of 
the above lines means, or what idea he 
intended to convey, unless he can be 
understood that the young dog repre- 
sents public opinion, aroused and upon 
the alert, and determined upon guard- 
ing that attractive hen-roost, the treas- 
ury, from the thievish foxes who infest 
the country. 

It is a fact easily accounted for, that 
such rhymes as originated in America 
are fast disappearing, and making way 
for the beautiful songs, touching ditties, 
and grand poems of Erin. The only 
New England poem extant, and the one 
that has outlived all others, is a picture 



of domestic life, mournful, but neverthe- 
less interesting. Like everything ema- 
nating from those stern advocates of 
purity and morality, it has a strong 
leaning towards sobriety and virtue, 
stamping the author as one of that no- 
ble race, the Puritan. The piece was 
a great favorite with Cotton Mather, 
and is regularly recited at the com- 
mencement exercises of Yale College, to 
the great satisfaction of the president 
and faculty, and the improvement of 
the audience. With the students, the 
once popular pieces commencing, " You'd 
scarce expect one of my age," and "The 
boy stood on the burning deck," have 
made way for 

"THAT'S WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH 
HANNAH." 

Joe loves his toddy and pipe, 

Joe, who was gentle and tender. 
Now it may not be harmful to smoke, 

But Joe ought not to go on a bender. 
For then he is out late at night, 

And is surly and rough in his manner , 
Folks say he is taking too much — 

And "that's what's the matter with 
Hannah. ' ' 

I don't believe in whining about — 

"Tis a waste of one's time, and a folly 
And I like a good rollicking laugh, 

And good friends all about who are jolly. 
But Joe tarries too long at the wine, 

And his wife, when I happen to scan her, 
Looks anxious, and pale, and I know — 

That "that's what's the matter with 
Hannah.' ' 

He's a generous fellow, that Joe, 

And fast fellows are always around him ; 
And he's kind and good-natured to all, 

But he drinks with too many, confound 
him. 
And one is an oily-tongued chap, 

They say he's a dangerous planner, 
And he sticks to Joe's side like a leech — 

And " that's what's the matter with 
Hannah." 

Joe has a snug little house, 
But his meek little wife has her sorrow ; 



HIBERNIA ; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD VER. 



119 



Each day gives new strength to her fears, 
And she shudders to think of the morrow. 

Though she smiles, and tries hard to be gay, 
There is something, alas ! in her manner, 

Which says she is anxious for Joe — 
And " that's what's the matter with 
Hannah." 

Cromwell was a man of progress ; 
his views and sentiments were those of 
an advanced state of civilization ; in- 
tent upon serving the English people, 
he killed the king, and put himself at 
the head of the government. Sustained 
by the pious Roundheads, and supported 
by bayonets, he achieved a victory as 
decided and complete as any ever won 
by an American politician, though the 
latter may have had an army of repeat- 
ers to march at his command, a troop 
of canvassers ready to falsify the vote 
of the people, and the treasury of a 
great metropolis to pay for these valua- 
ble services. 

Steinhurst tells us of Irish fairs, and 
especially of one in Dublin, where wares 
were sold " dog cheap ; " and he tells us 
of a man who wrapped himself in a Wa- 
terford rug, and was near being torn to 
pieces by the dogs, who took him for a 
bear. In spite of the oppressions of the 
English and their own quarrels, they 
made much progress in trade and com- 
merce, cultivated the arts of peace, and 
nursed and kept alive that noble ambi- 
tion which, transmitted from father to 
son, was, at last, to make them the 
rulers of the great American republic. 

Those ambitious Americans, who have 
attempted to enter public life, have met 
with so many rebuffs aud discourage- 
ments, as to deter many, who, iu their 
youth, had hopes of distinction and honor 
among their countrymen. The fate of 
Hezekiah Hayman, who aspired to noth- 
ing higher than to cast his vote for the 
man of his choice, and who could hardly 
find time for that, for he kept a store, 
reveals the obstacles which lie in the 



pathway of him who attempts to per- 
form his duty like a good citizen. Under 
the impression that he ought to vote, 
he starts for the polls, and when he 
mildly suggests that he would like to 
deposit his ballot, he is met by the in- 
evitable Irishman, who exclaims — Niver- 
rnore 1 

HAYMAN' S LAMENT. 

Once, 'twas in November dreary, 

After work, forlorn and weary, 

And the afternoon was waning, 
That to vote I left my store. 

Vote, thought I, I will for Faber ; 

Clever man — he was my neighbor — 

Vote I will for him, I pondered, 
As I paused to look the door. 

But the brogue of Tipperary, 

Heard I as I locked the door. 

Only this, and nothing more. 

Shocked at first, I did recoil ; 
Born I was upon the soil, 
Taught to love the flag and eagle, 

Reared on old Long Island's shore. 
To the son of Erin blandly 
This I said. He answered grandly, 

Stay sir, keep within your store. 
My advice sir should be heeded, 
You'll be called for if you're needed. 
Ah ! I said, he is mistaken ; 

Irish blunder, nothing more. 

Should I whimper like a poodle ? 
No ! I thought of Yankee Doodle, 
And my blood began to tingle 

Through my heart and to its core. 
Vote I will or have a tussle, 
This I said, and try my muscle. 
He a little stick was swinging. 

Vote ! said he ; no, nivennore ! 
'Tis my right, I said emphatic ; 
In a tone aristocratic, 

Did he mutter — Nivermore ! 

Then I looked at him with wonder, 
Getting, too, as mad as thunder ; 
But he lit his pipe. I never, 

Never saw his like before. 
Pat, I said, I'll vote or fight ye. 
Shure, he said, it would delight me, 
Just a little mill for pleasure, 

Nothing would delight me more. 
Then he drew his coat, still grinning, 
With a smile by no means winning, 

And he growled — No, nivermore ! 



120 



HIBERN1A; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



Yankees should be meek and lowly, 
So he said. My bundles slowly— 
Soap and sugar I was taking 

To my dwelling from the store — 
Laid I down, and somewhat flurried, 
At the Irishman I hurried. 
And he played with his shillalah — 

He had handled it before. 
I am taxed, I said, 'tis funny ; 
Do you call on me for money ? 

And he said — Forivermore ! 

Then a man in blue did grab me, 
And I said, why do you nab me ? 
I my rights am simply seeking, 

Jeered and baffled, sick and sore. 
Pooh ! he said, you are but chaffing ; 
And they both turned in to laughing ; 

And just then I* think I swore. 
Then I felt so melancholy, 
But the Irishman was jolly, 
And he said, the rights you talk of, 

They are gone forivermore. 

To the jail I then was carried, 

Sad and lonely there I tarried ; 

All night long my wife and children 

My ill fortune did deplore. 
Morning found my body aching, 
And through prison darkness breaking, 
I could hear that man of Erin 

Give an irritating roar. 
Still around the prison prowling, 
You shall vote, I heard him howling, 

Vote again, no, nivermore ! 

Though I find these things distressing, 
Still the Irish are a blessing, 
So the orators all tell us, 

As they often have before. 
Thus v the politicians school us ; 
Pat, they say, should tax and rule us ; 
What on earth are Yankees fit for 

But to keep a little store ? 
Shall Americans be free, then ? 
Hark ! a voice says No ! you heathen, 

We will rule them ivermore. 

But the Yankee now is rising, 
And it is somewhat surprising, 
When we scan his antecedents. 

That he did not rise before. 
Do you hear his proclamation ? 
" We will rule the Yankee nation, 
Like the sound of many waters, 

Sweeping in from shore to shore. 



Pat our dearest rights despising, 
And our land monopolising, 

He shall govern us no more !" 

The respectful manner and deferential 
tone adopted by the American official in 
his intercourse with the people, have 
charmed the extreme communists, and 
have been discussed and commented 
upon by those who are known to be- 
more moderate. It is not doubted that, 
in defence of free government, in the 
name of liberty, and under anything like 
advantageous circumstances, a commit- 
tee of public safety, on defence, could be 
organized in New York, with power to 
buy all the petroleum in the market, 
money to pay for it, and authority to 
use every barrel, should the committee 
decide that justice, and the cause of hu' 
man freedom made it their duty to do so. 

Illustrative of the yielding, accomo- 
dating disposition of the local ruler, we 
insert the following letter, which was- 
sent in reply to a communication received 
from some of the most respectable tax- 
payers and worthy citizens of New York 
city. There was nothing in the case to 
call for any unusual amount of respect, 
urbanity, or deference from the writer, 
it being a fact that the citizens referred 
to belonged to that class who confine 
themselves to one vote each, and who' 
decline to interfere with the counting of 
the ballots in any manner contrary to 
law, or the oaths of the officers selected 
to miscount them. And furthermore, it 
appears evident that he 'was, when he 
penned the document, impressed with 
the recollection that " the people are the 
fouutain of all power," that governments 
are established and maintained for the 
benefit of the governed," that a public 
officer is but the people's servaut — in 
short, he must have been in an extremely 
"vox populi, vox Dei" mood, or he 
would not have bowed so very low to 
his constituents. 



EIBERN1A; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



121 



A COUETEOUS LETTER. 

New Yokk, Aug. 12, 1871. 

To , one of the signers of the communicatio?i 

addressed to the undersigned : 

I beg to make acknowledgment 

Of your communication. 
To the chairman I have sent it, 

And I have no hesitation 
In stating why I wont receive 

The document at all. 
Just listen how I answer to 

Your rude uncivil call. 

And first, of this metropolis 

Remember I am Mayor ; 
Winch means that I am great Tycoon, 

And you must have a care 
How you behave. No gentleman 

Would sign the document, 
Nor a gentleman receive it 
If it happened to be sent. 

And secondly : to be polite 

Is just what I desire ; 
So I wont abuse each signer, 

And call every man a liar, 
Though when you said you lived uptown 

You knew it was not true ; 
But I would not call you liars, gents — 

I'm more polite than you. 

And thirdly : of the meeting 

You talk, but were not there, 
My Boughs were on the ground, and I 

Know much of the affair. 
They told me how, with curses loud, 

They drowned the public voice, 
And how they broke the meeting up — 

And then I did rejoice. 

The chairman was insulted, 

And the speakers hooted down ; 
Don't talk of free speech now to me, 

Nor rave, and rant, and frown. 
I called upon my ruffian crew, 

Who mustered in a mass — 
Without the negative, say how 

Could resolutions pass ? 

And fifthly : now there's one whereas 

That is not true, you know, 
For some time since, over my name, 

I plainly told you so. 
And sixth : you are insulting, 

And so vulgar in your tone — 
I tell you I am Mayor, 

And I must be let alone. 



Besign ! you ' ' blarsted ' ' ninnies, No ! 

Aint that a pretty note ; 
Why, you are not " Bepeaters," 

And for me you did not vote. 
Besign a place like that I hold 

For some one else to rule ! 
The plunderers would laugh at me, 

And say I was a fool. 

Twelve years I held an office, 

And I never, never erred, 
But preserved my name unblemished, 

And for this you have my word. 
And I in office shall remain ; 

Bemember, I am Mayor, 
And all your anger I defy — 

Disturb me if you dare. 

What will the people do ? Will they 
cower and give way to the defiance, or 
will they tell him that 

For years we've borne oppression, 

And have seen our hard-earned cash 
Thrown away and wildly squandered 

By a troop of reckless trash. 
But we will be robbed no longer, 

And a solemn oath we swear, 
That we will maintain our liberties — 

False man Beware ! Beware ! 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

Irish Poetry superseding that of all other Nations 
— Specimens of German Poetry — Diedrich Polil 
—The Fate of his Pets— Villiam Dell— He kills 
the Tyrant — Small Salaries— Sudden Death— 
A Pipe and an Empty Bottle— Important Pa- 
pers—Receipts and Expenditures of an Office- 
holder — The Coroner and the Jury— The Ver 
diet— The Public Funeral— A Solitary Mourner 
— A Papal Brigade— Americans made useful- 
Rich Rewards promised — National Song — 
Barney Doodle— The Grand Review. 

We have stated that the poetry of 
New England, with the exception of a 
single composition, has passed from the 
mind of man — nor do we regard the fact 
as at all important, for the efforts of 
Americans have scarcely looked beyond 
a weak imitation of the splendid pieces 



122 



EIBERNIA ; OR, IRELAND TEE WORLD VER. 



left to the world by the bards of Ireland 
— intellectual monuments reared by the 
great minds of the past, that seem to 
laugh at time, and challenge eternity. 
The poetry of the Germans differed 
widely from that of the Americans, be- 
ing more difficult to read and compre- 
hend by persons whose knowledge of the 
languages was confined to the plainest 
and most straightforward English. There 
was yet much in it that seemed to make 
it worthy of preservation, though it 
would not, of course, take rank with 
the rhymes of Erin. We feel that we 
shall not be disputed when we say that 
there was much in the verses of the 
German poets to excite the admiration, 
and attract the attention of a German 
scholar. It was their practice to de- 
scribe the harmless scenes of every-day 
life, never forgetting to say a word in 
praise of that soul-stirring, song-exciting, 
yet harmless national beverage, " Lager 
Bier," a drink which, according to Tac- 
itus, has come down to us from the days 
of the Roman invasions and Arminius. 
After a careful search on both sides of 
the Atlantic, we have been able to res- 
cue one or two meagre fragments — con- 
temptible, we admit, when compared 
with the grand productions which have 
mouldered away, and been ground to 
dust beneath the iron heel of Time. 
Searching among the musty records of 
an ancient German library, the author 
was attracted by an odor which led him 
to believe that his efforts were about to 
be rewarded by the discovery of one of 
those cheeses so much praised by the 
natives, and known as " Limberger." 
Imagine his joy when he found the smell 
to proceed from a piece of parchment 
which, on account of its extreme age, 
emitted the pecnliar odor above referred 
to ; and there within that soiled and 
ancient document, which bore evidences 
of having been handled and perused by 



the great Gambriuus himself, appeared 
an account of 

DIEDERICH POHL. 

Old Diederich Pohl vas a scholly zoul, 

And geept a beerzaloon, 
And he geept a organ in de houze, 

And it blay zome libely doon. 
And de bier vas alvays gool and raze 

Ven he sell dem in his plaze, 
Und his brod vas rye, und goot to eat 

Mit ham and schweitzer kase. 

Und he geept zwei dable in de room, 

Und he geept some creazy cart, 
Und de poys dey gum at night du blay, 

All day dey vorks zo hart. 
Und he geept a table — dere it schtood 

Shust a leetle to von zide — 
Und dey boys dey blayed dere bagatelle, 

Und to peat dey alvays dried. 

Und Diederich Pohl, Katrina had, 

Und she vore a leetle hat ; 
Und he had von leetle boodle tog, 

Und he geept von leetle gat. 
Von tay his tog und gat dey go, 

Und Diederich don't know vare, 
Und ven he hunt und vind dem not, 

He make an awful schware. 

He scholds Katrina fery pad — 

Katrina vas his taughter — 
Und he zay, ' ' I fraid zome loaver guss 

Has trown dem in de vater. 
Und de gollar on dat boodles neg, 

Und de leetle lock vas prass, 
Und I care not for de tog, ' ' he says, 

" But dem locks I vish I hass." 

Von nide de poys vere all arount, 

Old Diederich he feel goot, 
And de poys zay, " pring dem sausage out," 

Und Diederich say he vould. 
Und ven dey cut dose sausage up, 

Vy, vat yon tinks dey vind, 
Dat leetle locks und de piece of cat, 

Vat you call de tails pehind. 

By far the most lucrative, as well as 
respectable business in America, is that 
of selling ardent spirits, or " keeping a 
. saloon ;" it brings the proprietor at 
once into contact and into favor with 
the rulers of the land, and upon such 
terms as to be sure to secure to him the 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND TEE WORLD OVER. 



123 



honors and emoluments of office. It is 
difficult for an American to qualify him- 
self in this way for high positiou. All 
the eligible corners and locations in the 
large towns are taken, and are occupied 
by the ever-vigilant Irish. This is one 
reason why the people of the United 
States know so little of public affairs. 
These saloons are the institutions where 
diplomacy, statesmanship, the science of 
government, and political economy are 
taught, and they are so much crowded 
that a native can seldom gain admission. 
In the German institutions of this char- 
acter, a different line of study and in- 
vestigation is pursued. They simply 
teach the art of taking comfort and of 
being happy, though it is said that they 
contemplate turning their attention, in 
some degree at least, to public affairs. 

Fiuding their taxes yearly increasing, 
witli no corresponding increase in the 
amount or value of their possessions, 
badgered and baffled when they apply 
to the public servants for information or 
justice, sneered at by the ruling party, 
and carefully excluded from all positions 
of honor or trust, the Germans of New 
York, at last, really contemplate taking 
part in the management of public affairs. 
The natives " hail with joy " the resolu- 
tion, but greatly fear that the next 
scheutzenfest will commence before it is 
acted upon ; and even after that is over, 
they may find the interval too short 
between the festival named and the san- 
gerfest ; and as one follows the other, at 
short intervals, there are gloomy, de- 
spondent people, who seem to fear that 
they will continue to shoot, sing, and 
drink until they forget that they are 
American citizens. 

We have no share in these fears. 
Already are they bringing forward and 
dwelling upon those splendid examples 
of heroism aud love of country, which 
live in the annals of their " Fatherland.'' 



And their theatres, gardens, and places 

of pleasure are made to resound with 

the story (as told by their own Schiller) 

of 

VILLIA.M DELL. 

Old Villiam Dell he lif, 

Ub in dose moundaiu high — 
Ven dyrands ub dere game, 

He shood dem in de eye. 
Of all dem Sjvitzer poye, 

Dell's bow it vas de best ; 
Und many dime he go 

Oud do dem scheutzenfest. 

Und Dell he dalk zo loud, 

Und den he loog zo mad, 
Dat beebles den dey dinks 

Dat dey vas dreat zo pad. 
Den many dime dey dalk, 

Und don't know vat to do — 
"Dose dyrand kill," zay Dell, 

"Und den I fides mit you." 

Dell hab von leetle poy ; 

He send him oud von day, 
Do py von quard oh peer, 

Und zay, "you no inus schtay." 
Der leetle poy no gum, 

Und Dell he vas zo dry, 
Und zo he go oud, doo, 

Do vind dem reasons vy. 

Old Gesler he vas looze, 

Und no could vind der vay ; 
He make von awvul schream, 

' ' I loss ! I loss ! " he zay. 
Und den der poy he gum, 

De dyrand holler zo, 
Der poy he zay ' ' Hush ub ; 

I knows der vay do go. ' ' 

Dose poy he valks along ; 

Ole Gesler foller town ; 
Und zoon de dyrand zay, 

"Aha ! I zee de down. 
Zo poy you go mit me ' ' — • 

Der poy zay, " No, mynheer; 
I go strade back," he zay. 

Mine fader vant dat peer." 

" You fader is von reb ; " 

Der grooel dyrand zed, 
1 ' I cud ride off your head, 

Und den you vill go dead." 
Der poy he no did gry, 

He no did durn him bale ; 
Und ven dey gome zer down, 

De poy he go to chail. 



124 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



Und Dell zoon he find out, 

All pout de leetle poys, 
Den he pegin to schwear, 

Und make zo pig a noise. 
Und den he dake von pow, 

Und dake zwei arrow doo, 
Und go ride troo de doun, 

Do ze vat he can to. 

"I vants mine leetle poy," 

Dell do der dyr^nt said ; 
Und Gesler he say, "no," 

" I cud off both your head." 
' ' I geeps you now, ' ' he zay, 

Und den he vas zo glad, 
Und all de dime Dell schwear, 

Begause he vas zo mad. 

Und Gesler den he zay, 

I vants zum leetle vun, 
' ' I puts von apple now, 

Der poy his head upbon. 
Und ven you shoot dem off, 

Dat poy he go mit you, 
Und ven you hit dem not, 

You knows vat I vill do.'' 

Dose poy he schtand zo schtill, 

He never vink his eye ; 
Den Dell he bend dat pow, 

Und led ein arrow fly. 
He shood dis appel off, 

Zo zhure as he have eyes, 
Ad any scheutzenfest, 

Dat shot vould take von brize. 

Den Dell he pent his pow, 

Again ub to his eye, 
Zo fast as he could go, 

Und let dose arrow fly. 
Und den dere vas a schream, 

Dat dyrant he vas hit, 
Dat arrow it stuck oud 

Eide from his stomache pit. 

The small and really insufficient sala- 
ries paid by the government of New 
York, illustrates the American idea of 
what the reward of a servant of the 
people should be ; but still the Irish 
ruler, accustomed from his infancy to 
economy and a careful expenditure of 
money, is able to keep body and soul 
together, which is thought to be more 
than the natives will be able to do if 



the burdens of government continue to 
increase. 

It has been a most difficult matter to 
get at the facts and discover just what 
the income of an office-holder under a 
republican form of government is; but 
an event dark and gloomy in itself, has 
at last thrown that light on the subject, 
so long, so earnestly, and yet so vainly 
sought. One of the class in question — 
a man who had given his best days to 
the service of the people — was found on 
the curbstone, one chill November morn- 
ing, stiff, stark, and dead. In the 
pocket of his tattered vest was found a 
half-sheet of paper, headed Department 
of Public Works. The other pockets were 
empty — but in a hat, old, and having 
upon it the traces of rough usage and 
tempestuous weather, was discovered a 
small and much-worn laurel-root pipe, 
an empty pint bottle, and a document 
of which the following is a copy : 

Statement of monies received by 
Larry Rooney, while holding the office 
of , city of New York. 

Salary per annum $2,500 00 

Sale of vote direct 1,500 00 

" " indirect 1,000 00 

" " influence to pass 

measures pending 1,000 00 

Influence to secure places for di- 
vers persons 1,000 00 

From wooden pavements 1,500 00 

Influence in favor of P Q., charged 

with murder 1.000 00 

Ditto, bank robber 1,000 00 

Manuals sold 500 00 

Stationery 250 00 

Levies on different persons 1,000 00 

Interest in jobs 1,500 00 

Diamonds and other presents. .. . 1,500 00 

Wine, tobacco, etc. donated 500 00 



$15,750 00 



Expended in the regular performance 
of official duties, during the year afore- 
said, funds public and private, as fol- 
lows, viz. : 



EIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



125 



Rum for self $2,000 00 

For friends, strikers, etc 1,500 00 

Repeaters, 300, $3.00 each 900 00 

Paid to canvassers of votes 1,000 00 

Lunch, rum. and cigars for officers 

of election 300 00 

Loaned and not to be called for.. 1,000 00 
Assessed for funeral expenses. . . . 200 00 
Lawyers' fees paid for ward politi- 
cians 500 00 

Pew and church expenses 1,500 00 

Wine, etc., for sake of style 1,000 00 

Suppers and lunches 1,000 00 

Books and papers for my own use, 1 75 

Ditto postage 10 

Ball tickets 500 00 

Target companies 1.500 00 

Club expenses 2.000 00 

Assessed for election purposes. . . 3,500 00 
Family expenses, wife and seven 

children 450 00 



$18,851 85 
The coroner proceeded to inquire into 
the cause of the death of the unfortu- 
nate man. He took from the hat we 
have described the pint bottle, which 
was found to be entirely empty, and 
without even a cork. The proper offi- 
cer of the county put the bottle to his 
nose, when a tremor ran through his 
frame, he turned deathly pale, and sank 
upon the ground ; nor did he rise until 
a drink was procured from a neighbor- 
ing saloon. Had the excise law been 
in force at the time, the county would 
have lost one of its most efficient officers. 
But the saloon was open and his life 
was saved. 

The jury seeing the effect of the bottle 
on the officer were able to bring in a ver- 
dict without delay. The corpse was care- 
fully removed to the City Hall, where 
it lay in state as long as it was deemed 
desirable, in view of the fact that the 
weather turned extremely warm, the flags 
were kept at half mast until the body 
was followed to its last resting-place, 
where it reposes beyond the reach of 
all the troubles of this world, including 
delirium tremens. 



It was followed by the Mayor, Heads 
of Departments, Commissioners, the Com- 
mon Council, in carriages — and the thou- 
sands which the pageant cost, were paid 
by the city of New York. One man 
followed the coffin arrayed in deep 
black, and bathed in tears. He was 
an applicant for the office made va- 
cant by the death of his friend. At 
the grave his grief was uncontroll- 
able. He was appointed next day, 
and became resigned to his mournful 
bereavement. 

There are those who stubbornly op- 
pose any increase of salary, but seem 
willing to see their faithful servants 
beggar themselves for the public good. 
These discontented spirits would, were 
they not restrained by that portion of 
their countrymen who are more just and 
prudent than themselves, pursue their 
benefactors even as the murderous owls 
of Jersey pursue the innocent Irish spar- 
rows that chirp the natives into a state 
of forgetfulness of all their wrongs and 
oppressions, if indeed they have any to 
forget. 

The unfortunate Larry Rooney died 
insolvent, and so will our public men 
continue to die, until the few obstacles 
which lie between the public money and 
the office-holder have given way to a 
sense of justice on the part of the people 
and a proper spirit of reform. 

In 1592, and for some time previous, 
religion had been a matter warmly dis- 
cussed, and discussion in Ireland has in- 
variably been accompanied witn more or 
less bloodshed. As usual, the most cruel 
tortures were invented and inflicted by 
people who could not find it in their 
hearts to tolerate wickedness in any 
form. 

America will soon be in a condition to 
be used as a starting point-for crusades. 
Not long since the ruling element in that 
country came near sending to the rescue 



126 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



of the Pope an army grand and invinci- 
ble. The soldiers were not to be Irish- 
men ; they could not be spared. It was 
found that they would be compelled to 
resign temporarily their offices, and the 
country would be left, to a certain ex- 
tent, without rulers. It was therefore 
decided that the ranks should be filled 
with Americans, and it was a matter of 
much joy and congratulation, that at 
• last there was an opportunity to dispose 
of this useless race to some advantage. 
The plan adopted was to organize into 
regiments the descendants of the Puri- 
tans, who were to be so treated, and so 
well paid, as to cause them to forget, 
even if exposed to them, all the toils and 
dangers of war. They were to be made 
the subject of masses and prayers ; their 
banners were to be blest by priests — 
when blessings amounted to something 
important — and they were to be paid 
liberally in indulgences. Such as had 
sinned against the Irish government of 
their country were to be forgiven ; and, 
in short, they were to be put upon such 
a footing that, if they did not escape 
purgatory, they were at least to be 
spared the torture and misery of those 
hotter and more uncomfortable regions 
which lie beyond. 

The uniform to be worn by these men — 
many of whom seemed destined for mar- 
tyrdom — was to be of green, and the 
shamrock was to hang gracefully in the 
button-hole of each. To suit the occa- 
sion, songs were specially prepared, and 
as time was precious, and the managers 
of the great enterprise had much to oc- 
cupy their minds, it was found convenient 
and economical to modify some of the 
native war songs. The rage of the 
heroes was roused to the highest pitch, 
and their enthusiasm became uncontroll- 
able, when they heard sung, to an air 
which stirs the noblest impulses of the 
American heart, the song of 



BARNEY DOODLE. 
Barney Doodle went to Cork, 

And wore his corduroys ; 
He danced and frolicked with the girls, 
Shillalaed all the boys. 

Barney Doodle, lively lad ! 

Full of fun and frisky ; 
Potatoes are his meat and bread, 
His coffee Irish whiskey. 

To Dublin town he made his wa,y, 
Dressed in his best and smiling ; 

But all the time he swung his stick, 
And for a fight was spiling. 
Barney Doodle, etc. 

He went on board a ship one day — 

This Barney Doodle, funny — 
And slily stowed himself away, 

Because he had no money. 
Barney Doodle, etc. 

And when the ship got out to sea, 
The wicked mate who found him, 

Called Barney very naughty names, 
And cruelly did pound him. 
Barney Doodle, etc. 

He crossed the sea in thirty days — 

This Irishman from Cork, sir ; 
Without a shilling in his fob 

He landed in New York, sir. 
Barney Doodle, etc. 

He met a lady on Broadway, 

She had a pretty poodle ; 
She sweetly smiled, and said to him, 

Good morning, Barney Doodle. 
Barney Doodle, etc. 

The natives all took off their hats, 

And powerful he grew, sir ; 
And everybody bowed and said, 

Of course we vote for you, sir. 
Barney Doodle, etc 

And Barney soon was made a judge, 

And wore a diamond, too, sir, 
As large as any front-door knob ; 

But what is that to you, sir ? 
Barney Doodle, etc. 

Pull down the striped Yankee rag — 

We would not have it seen, sir, 
Since Irish rule America — 

Hang out the flag of green, sir ! 
Barney Doodle, etc. 

They did not go, but they marched 
through many streets and banqueted 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



127 



from time to time. Barney Mac Graf- 
fully, who owned a band, furnished the 
music, and as they marched nobly by 
the City Hall to that splendid American 
air, "Lanagan's Ball," they were review- 
ed by O'Toole and McCoole, McCall and 
O'Hall, Lanagan and Flanagan, Mc- 
Quirk and MeGuirk, Quinnand McGinn, 
Roouey and Mooney, and other distin- 
guished characters, civil and military. 

The natives who had not been drafted 
into that fortunate regiment, looked on 
with joy and admiration. New Yorkers 
were happy even in July, aud that is 
saying much for a people who are habit- 
ually gloomy and disconsolate during the 
months the names of which lack the 
magical R, the letter so prominent in 
Ireland, Erin, and Hibernia. 



CHAPTER XXIY 

The Irrepressible Conflict— Which I wish to Re- 
mark— Higgin O'Dowd in the Stocks — He 
pleads for Stationery— Give Me the Pen — 
Three Blind Mice— Custom-houses and Irish 
Collectors— Linen— Whiskey and Balbriggan 
Stockings the only Imports— Employees— Song 
of the Veteran— Pleasant Duties of the Author 
— He turns cheerfully from Gunpowder to Love 
— Love Scenes— Barney and Mag— Air, " The 
Tall Young Oysterman'' — Mag saved from 
a Dreadful Fate — She forgives Barney and 
shares his Shanty— A Public Meeting disturb- 
ed by a Know-Nothing — The Criminal prompt- 
ly arrested— Tried and Imprisoned — Oh! why 
not sing those old Songs ? — They give it up — 
The Irish Wall not reliable as a Defence — 
Woman in America — Mrs. Malones— Domestic 
Ditty— The Infant Malones— Twinkle, twinkle, 
Solitaire— Not Byron but O'Byrne. 

THE IRREPRESSIBLE CONFLICT. 
Which I wish to remark, 

So don't misunderstand, 
Is that Pat is the lark 

Who should govern the land, 
For a Yankee has only one ballot, 

While Pat carries a score in each hand. 

It was late in the fall, 
And the weather was wet, 



And the facts I recall 

I shall never forget, 
As I frequent remark to the people, 

In the hope they will do something yet. 

Pat Dugan walked up 

To the polls with a frown, 
(Till a few days before 

He'd been living down-town !) 
He had taken a drop of the " eraythur," 

Hibernian scruples to drown. 

Which a "nagur" stood near, 

In a seedy jeans coat, 
Though his knees shook with fear, 

Yet he challenged that vote. 
Then Pat turned in a rage on the " nagur," 

And cruelly clutched for his throat. 

And the fight was severe, 

For the "nagur " was stout, 
And he stirred up his foe, 

And he shook him about ; 
Nor was there a single policeman 

To lead the two fighting-men out. 

And the jmmber of votes 

From Pat's pockets that fell, 
You would never believe 

If the truth I should tell. 
For Pat was a noted " Repeater," 

And he did up his work, very well. 

And the Yankee exclaimed — 

' ' Ah ! I greatly deplore 
These feuds between friends 

So don't fight any more.'' 
Then, without even casting a ballot, 

He hurried right back to his store. 
Then Pat gathered each vote 

From the sidewalk and street, 
And he said with a look, 

Neither pensive nor sweet, 
" I will bate to a jelly the ' nagur ' 

Who dares tell me I ever ' repeat.' " 

And the officers bland 

Who had charge of the polls, 
Each with hat in his hand, 

Dared not claim their own souls ) 
While Pat stuffed in the votes which were 
entered 

To the names which were down on the rolls. 

Which is why I remark, 

So don't misunderstand, 
That Pat is the lark 

Who should govern the land ; 
For a "nagur" has only one ballot, 

While Pat carries a score in each hand. 



128 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



Soon after the struggle just described 
an event transpired which roused the 
Irish heart, and created unbounded in- 
dignation. For several days a riot 
seemed imminent, and the authorities, 
civil and military, were upon the alert. 
Higgin O'Dowd, a bard, a minstrel, and 
a poet, left the house of a friend at two 
in the morning. The entertainment had 
been a convivial one, and Higgin, in- 
spired, elevated, and superior to any ord- 
inary law in his own estimation, broke 
forth in song. The harpies of the law 
seized him, a fierce struggle ensued, and 
Higgin was consigned to a felon's cell. 
In the morning he was sentenced, and 
that, too, by an Irish judge, to the stocks. 
This could not have happened in New 
York, but took place in the ancient vil- 
lage of Harlem, where the people cling 
with a strange tenacity to the ideas, 
customs, and superstitious of the past. 
The news spread like wildfire, and it was 
soon known that Higgin O'Dowd sat ex- 
posed in the stocks. Scores of reporters 
sought an interview with him, and crowd- 
ed around the suffering child of song, 
eager to record the story of his wrongs. 
But his mind seemed still illuminated by 
the inspiration which had overtaken him 
the night before, at the house of his 
friend, and the interviewers could gather 
nothing but wild, wandering thoughts, 
and expressions incoherent and unsatis- 
factory. To use the words of those who 
sought a sensation so earnestly, "he sim- 
ply mumbled : " and there was nothing 
left but for each to make such a report 
of the affair as his fancy might suggest. 
It was curious to note in the morning 
papers the different reports of one and 
the same circumstance ; one had it that 
the persecuted poet repeated the creed 
and the ten commandments ; another, 
that he recited a proclamation against 
Orangemen ; another stated that he 
groaned and writhed in an agonizing, 



; but vain attempt to digest a report of 
the expenditures of the city and county 
of New York — but they were all wrong ; 
and it remained for a poet, one of the 
crowd, whose heart had been touched 
by the promethean fire, to elucidate the 
matter, and render a correct report- 
O'Dowd had the phrenzy on him ; grand 
thoughts flashed through his roused and 
excited brain, and that which had been 
understood so differently by different 
interviewers, was simply an earnest and 
heart-rendering appeal for stationery. 
Pen and paper was all he desired, but 
even that was refused him by the iron- 
hearted people of Harlem. " Give me ! " 
he cried, in a voice calculated to move 
the heart of the Andes, 

"GIVE ME THE PEN." 

Give me the pen ! 

My restless brain is teeming 
With visions strange and rare — 
Such scenes as haunt 

The moaning madman's dreaming — 
And dusky phantoms hover in the air. 
Quick! Quick! e'er truth 

From my roused soul shall banish 
The thoughts I fain would bind, 

And my wild fancies vanish. 

Give me the pen ! 

Now cataracts go dashing 
And roaring down the mountain. 
No, 'tis the voice — 

The soothing, gentle plashing — 
The murmer of a fountain. 
Come, come ! I wait ; 

And now such thunders rattle, 
As when vast armies meet 

And mingle in the battle. 

Give me the pen ! 

My unchained thoughts go sweeping 
Over the dashing sea ; 
And the wild storm, 

That wreck on wreck is heaping, 
Seems but the mirth of gods to me. 
Oh ! linger not ; 

For now the waves are greeting 
A quiet, star-lit sky ; 

Quick ! for such thoughts are fleeting. 



HIBEBNIA; OB, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



129 



Give ine the pen ! 

I dream of twilight hours, 
And eyes as bright as stars ; 
And love-songs float 

From Oriental bowers. 
No darkening shadow mars 
The vision fair, 

And o'er it all the sound of music lingers — 
As when rich strings of gold 

Are touched by fairy fingers. 

Give me the pen ! 

For in the goblet glowing 
Behold the rosy wine ; 
'Tis but a dream — 

And still I see it flowing. 
A vain and empty dream ? No, no ! 'tis 
wine — 

Not a vain creature of the brain ideal. 
'Tis wine ! 'tis wine ! 

This ! this ! at least, is real. 

As soon as public attention was called 
to the fact that a distinguished Irish 
poet sat in the stocks, pelted by boys, 
interrogated by newspaper reporters, 
and barked at by dogs, the people ral- 
lied, and he was released from confine- 
ment upon the promise that he would 
keep better hours, but chiefly upon a 
solemn declaration made by O'Dowd, 
after he had become entirely sober, that 
he would publish no more verses in that 
community. His bad faith appears in 
the fact that two days after he assailed 
the report made by a committee of the 
very best citizens, whom he designated 
as the 

THREE BLIND MICE. 

Three blind mice ! three blind mice ! 
They all sat down to look over the book6, 
And were caught in spite of their owlish looks, 
For Slippery Dick had baited the hooks 
For the three blind mice. 

Three blind mice ! three blind mice ! 
Dick was smart, and he held them tight, 
And he smiled and chatted with all his might, 
And gave them hints of assessments light, 
The three blind mice. 

Three blind mice ! three blind mice ! 
Out of the office they blindly ran, 
And they said, " Deny it now, if you can, 



That slippery chap is an honest man," 

Said the three blind mice. 

Three blind mice ! three blind mice ! 
And when the people the story heard, 
They loudly laughed — for their mirth was 

stirred, 
And 'twas, Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! at every word 
Of the three blind mice. 

Under the Hibernian system, which 
permeates, influences, and controls every- 
thing in the United States, the natives, 
as we have already seen, have little of 
the toil or anxiety of government left to 
them, and nothing illustrates this remark 
more fully than the wise and salutary 
measures adopted and practiced in mat- 
ters relating to the Custom House. It 
is a well-known fact that the people of 
America are called upon to import but 
very few of the productions of other 
countries, the different States of the 
Union furnishing nearly all that is need- 
ed to make them happy, and enable 
them to look respectable. For instaucc, 
Massachusetts furnishes the most ele- 
gant French boots, fresh from the hands 
of Chinamen. Connecticut supplies au 
abundance of spices, particularly nut- 
megs, which are said to be smoother, 
and more uniform in shape and size, 
than the imported article. New York 
yields French brandy, Holland gin, San- 
ta Cruz rum, and Havana cigars. New 
Jersey furnishes the soul-warming, wit- 
inspiring champagne — and we might go 
ou to show that each State contributes 
its share toward the happiness of the 
people of the country at large. The 
few articles now imported all cuinc from 
Ireland, and consist of lineu, used by 
such of the Irish office-holders in Ameri- 
ca, as ignore the custom universal with 
the natives of wearing paper collars and 
cuffs, Balbriggau stockings, anu Irish 
whiskey. It is eminently proper, there- 
fore, that Irishmen should have charge 
of the Custom Houses of the country 



130 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND TEE WORLD OVER. 



and fill in all cases the office of Collec- 
tor — for no greater mistake could be 
committed than to intrust the collection 
of duties to men who never use, and 
must be entirely ignorant of the value 
and character of the only goods im- 
ported. How can a man judge of linen 
who never wore it in his life ? and what 
does he know of Irish whiskey who has 
drank all his life that which comes 
from Robinson county, Tennessee ? and 
as for Balbriggau stockings, the natives 
of America are glad to put up with a 
wretched substitute, called a sock, which 
term has become a by-word — for when 
a disaster or misfortune overtakes a 
man suddenly and effectually, he is said 
to have it " socked to him." But we 
need not dwell on this subject. Ameri- 
cans are unreasonable when they aspire 
to positions they are not competent to 
fill. Of Irish legislation, and the mode 
adopted by that people of enforcing 
and administering the laws, they may 
have some faint idea — but of the goods 
imported to America they know nothing. 
With the generosity which character- 
izes the descendants of the Greek maiden, 
the Irish insist that some few, at least, 
of the natives shall fill positions of emol- 
ument and trust ; and, acting upon this 
determination, they select for messen- 
gers, tide-waiters, and door-keepers, a 
few worthy men. Whether discharged 
soldiers should be thus employed, is a 
question still open for discussion — most 
of them lack a leg, or an arm, and the 
government has a right to expect able- 
bodied men; besides, the class referred 
to being veterans, should not be allowed 
to wear themselves out in office, but 
might be sustained by a charitable pub- 
lic in some light employment, like play- 
ing the hand-organ, until the next war; 
when their services will, doubtless, be 
needed. Nearly all of them are left- 
handed — a circumstance which renders 



them of little value about the Custom 
Houses. In explanation of this singu- 
lar habit of using the left hand instead 
of the right, we give a song, which 
O'Dowd, in a sober moment, gathered 
from the lips of a musician whom he 
chanced to encounter in the street. The 
reader is at liberty to select a name for 
it, but Higgin called it 

THE SONG OF THE VETERAN. 

All day long at the crank, 

Turning it round and round, 
Many a cold and scornful look — 

Snow on the cold, cold ground. 
Left-handed I have to go it now, 

For, you see, I lost my right ; 
It happened at Malvern Hills one day, 

In rather a tough old fight. 

We were working our battery there ; 

And the way we sent the shell 
Must have made the charging gray-coats 
think 

They were getting up close to — well, 
You know the place ; but they paid us baok 

In grape and solid shot, 
And we stood in a sort of iron rain, 

And the air was awful hot. 

They were cutting my comrades down — 

'Twas like mowing a field of rye ; 
'Twas the easiest thing in the world that day 

For a man to lie down and die. 
But we stood to our dear old gun, 

And we didn'nt budge an inch, 
And each man swore to himself, I believe, 

That he'd die before he'd flinch. 

But a shell came humming along, 

And into our caisson fell ; 
And just what happened after that — 

Well, I shan't try to tell. 
First came an awful blast, 

Then a singeing, withering flame, 
And I was'nt fit to work a gun, 

Nor to answer to my name. 

'Twas rather a hard old shot, 

And it did me a heap of harm — 
For since that day at Malvern Hills, 

I have never seen my arm. 
And now I have told you all, 

And it's getting nearly night, 
And I guess you know why I turn the crank 

With my left instead of my right. 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



131 



Nothing is more gratifying to the heart 
of hirn who feels called upon to instruct 
and purify the public mind than to find 
himself permitted to turn from gunpow- 
der to love. Such has been our lot. 
From time to time we have been called 
to record tender scenes, and note those 
feelings, sentiments, and impulses, which 
are indigenous in the heart of an Irish- 
mau. And now we lay before the reader 
the story of one who, by an act of noble 
daring, overcame a heart which had 
long remained hard as adamant, and who 
won to his love and his Irish bosom one 
who had fled from him — even as Daphne 
fled from Apollo : 

BARNEY AND MAG. 
Air — "TTie Tall Young Oyster-man." 
There was a jolly Irishman 

Lived out among the rocks, 
His pigs he fattened in a sty, 

His nannies fed in flocks. 
His name was Barney Mooney, and 

Unhappy was he there, 
For Maggie Quin, the cruel jade, 
Refused his home to share. 

With a fol de ral de ral, 
De ral de ri do ! 

In front of Barney Mooney 's house 

There was a little lake, 
And heing in America, 

It had in it a snake. 
And Maggie, on a summer's day, 

Would drive the ducks to drink, 
And often there in earnest thought 

Would pause upon the brink. 

With a fol de ral, etc. 

One day when Mag was standing there, 

And looking very sweet, 
Her yellow ringlets in the wind, 

And nothing on her feet — 
A cruel snake did wind himself 

Around her form so fair ; 
And then 6he gave a dreadful scream, 

And Barney soon was there. 

With a fol de ral, etc. 

The snake soon wound himself around 

The pretty maiden's waist 
So tight it made her tongue hang out ; 

He was an ugly " baste." 



And then she said, " Oh ! Barney dear, 

And would you be so kind 
And help me now ; " then he began 

The serpent to unwind. 

With a fol de ral, etc. 

He took the viper by the tail 

And gave it then a swing, 
And out among the geese and ducks 

Its body he did fling. 
And Maggie said, " Oh ! Barney dear, 

Since you have saved my life, 
Together we will see the priest, 

And I will be your wife.'' 

With a fol de ral, etc. 

We might relate many actual occur- 
rences which go to show the position 
occupied by the American in his native 
land, and of what little importance he 
is in connection with public affairs in the 
country of his birth, but the following 
will serve our purpose. 

The people of the Seventeenth Ward, 
of the city of New York, were notified 
by a few active, public-spirited Irish 
men, it was desirable that a public meet- 
ing be held, and candidates selected for 
certain important offices, and they met 
in the rear of one of the principal sa- 
loons in the ward. A Mr. Dooley, who 
enjoyed the confidence, in a high degree, 
of those assembled, was called to the 
chair, and Patrick Flynn was appointed 
secretary, when the nominations were 
proceeded with. It was thought proper 
to select a candidate for the Assembly. 
A Tipperary man applied the brogue of 
that part of Ireland so persuasively, and 
presented so many facts and figures re- 
lating to the Irish vote in the ward, 
that an Irishman, named Timothy Bro- 
phy was selected for the honor. 

For School Commissioner, Denis Col- 
lopy was selected, after an effective 
speech, in the course of which the right 
of the Irishman to the place was fully 
established. Some discussion arose upon 
the selection of a candidate for alder- 
man, between a man from the county 



132 



HIBERN1A; OR, IRELAND TEE WORLD OVER. 



Antrim and a German, the latter pre-] 
vailing, and he secured the nomination 
for a countryman, the proprietor of an 
extensive beer-garden. 

Then an assistant alderman was want- 
ed, and a Hebrew convinced all present 
that the place belonged, of right, to his 
race and kindred, and it was so disposed 
of. Nothing remained but to appoint 
an inspector of election, and a man arose 
in the back part of the room, who seem- 
ed to shrink and wither as the eyes of 
the chairman were fixed upon him. 
He said he was a native of the country, 
and had been born and reared in New 
York ; aud that while he concurred 
with those present fully as to the pro- 
priety of the nominations already made, 
he thought he might with justice ask 
that one of his countrymen be made in- 
spector of the election. Dark clouds 
of wrath gathered around the brow of 
Dooley, the chairman, his lip curled 
proudly, and Irish lightning flashed from 
his eyes. " Seize that man," said he, 
pointing to the faltering American ; 
" seize him, for he is a Know-Nothing." 
The imprudeut native slept in the sta- 
tion-house that night, and next morning 
was fined for disturbing a meeting of 
law-abiding citizens. There was noth- 
ing of resentment in his manner. He 
sighed deeply, and a tear glistened in 
his eye. He spoke of the decadence of 
everything American, and asked, in a 
mournful tone of voice, the question — 

OH! WHY NOT SING THOSE OLD 

SONGS ? 
Oh ! why not sing those old songs ? 

Those simple, touching lays, 
I would not have them leave us, 

Like the joys of other days. 
Then tell again the story 

Of poor gentle ' ' Rosalie, ' ' 
Whose grave, all strewed with flowers. 

Is down in Tennessee. 

And sing that touching ditty 
Of " May," " My dearest May," 



How like a flower she faded, 

And how she passed away. 
Such notes would waft me back again 

To old Virginia's shore, 
Where " Susie Brown of Lynchburg town," 

Came " Knocking at the Door." 

Sing of the •' Swance River," 

And " My Old Kentucky Home ; " 
Down South among the orange groves 

In fancy I would roam. 
Tell me again of " Nellie Dear," 

" My dark Virginia Bride." 
How " Death came Knocking at her Door,'' 

And how, alas ! she died. 

Yes, sing again those old songs ; 

Who said, " Oh, don't you tell," 
Was it the dusky youth who wooed 

"The Louisiana Belle ? " 
Ah, yes ! and I remember 

The pretty " Nellie Bly," 
And a song about Susannah — 

"Susannah, don't you cry." 

And I can fancy now I hear 

" The Darkeys mournful Sound," 
As they sing of massa sleeping, 

" Sleeping in the cold, cold Ground." 
And the stirring corn song chorus, 

And the loud and plantive wail, 
With the perfume of magnolia, 

Seem to freight the Southern gale. 

Down in the canebrake once you sang, 

Close by the clattering mill, 
A pretty little beauty lived, 

You called her " Nancy Till." 
"Oh come along," the chorus ran, 

" Oh come along with me," 
And we will be so happy when 

We're down in Tennessee. 

Oh ! sing again the old songs — 

For with those ancient lays, 
The visions bright of childhood, 

The charms of other days, 
Are sure to come, and o'er our hearts 

Will cast a ray as bright 
As that which comes with morning 

To chase away the night. 

But the conundrum seemed too much 
for the bystanders, for they "gave it 
up." 

The rulers of New York congratulate 
themselves that though the people may 



HIBFJIN1A; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



133 



iu time become exasperated, and may 
seek to hold some one responsible for 
real, or imaginary wrongs, that they, at 
least, are secure, surrounded as they are 
by a solid and unbroken wall of Irish 
"Bricks." They seem to forget that 
against modern engines, and implements 
of war, walls are of little consequence. 
Thousands of Chinamen are passing over 
the wall which surrounds the " Celestial 
Empire," and are flocking to the United 
States ; and ancient Babylon, a city 
which, in the character of its rulers and 
iu the form of its government closely 
resembled New York, fell a prey to its 
enemies, though surrounded by a wall 
three hundred feet high, upon which twen- 
ty horsemen could easily ride abreast. 
The modern wall may prove insufficient. 
There is no place in the world where 
woman is so much honored, and so ten- 
derly cared for as in America. " Soci- 
ety " does not require that, delicate and 
gentle as she is, she shall share the grief 
or sorrows of her husband. The Amer- 
ican artist who has pictured her, frail, 
pale, and angelic, with extended hands 
and tearful eyes, in the act of exclaimiug 
" Suffer no little children to come unto 
me," had a just and proper conception 
of the fashionable wife of an American 
citizen ; who, while protected from care 
and anxiety, is expected to share in all 
the triumphs and good fortune of her 
husband. So thought Mrs. Malone 
when she sung her 

DOMESTIC DITTY. 

Air — " We Met by Chance.' '' 

When natives 'round the polls shall crowd, 
My husband to elect ; 

And vote with cheering long and loud, 
Not pausing to reflect. 

Ah ! then with hope my bosom swells, 

Yes, then with hope my bosom swells. 

He will get rich the usual way, 
He will get rich the usual way ; 
He will get rich, he will get rich, 
He will get rich the usual way. 



While Yankee's sell their wooden ware — 

Intent on gaining pelf, 
My husband shall secure his share — 

" You know how 'tis yourself." 
Then will I sing in joyous mood, 
Then will I sing in joyous mood. 

He will get rich, etc. 

Be still my heart, and patient wait, 
The happy hour is near, 

When Pat and I shall ride in states — 
Ours is a bright career. 

Farewell to goats and shanty then, 

Farewell to goats and shanty then 

He will get rich the usual way, 
He will get rich the usual way ; 
He will get rich, he will get rich, 
He will get rich the usual way. 

Mrs. Malone had a large family of 
children. Her youngest were twins, and 
to see her with one on each knee was a 
charming picture of motherly affection, 
the beauties of which were heightened 
when she chauted to the little darlings — 

Twinkle, twinkle solitaire, 
Praised by all the ladies fair ; 
Winking, blinking in the light, 
Flashing from the linen white. 

Twinkle, twinkle costly gem — 
Men, what do I care for them? 
Say I stole the cash that bought 
You. If so, I was not caught. 

Twinkle, twinkle, bauble fine, 
When the rabble see you shine ; 
How the gaping crowd will stare 
At my wondrous solitaire. 

Twinkle, twinkle, wink and flash, 
Thirty thousand — all in cash — 
Paid I for the gem (you see), 
That I might a lion be. 

Twinkle, twinkle— still thy rays 
Shall attract the vulgar gaze. 
Lion, did I say ? alas ! 
Something whispers no ; an ass. 

And thus did the affectionate motlier 
lull her little ones into that sweet sleep, 
known only to infant innocence. 

O'Byrne was an Irish poet, who pos- 
sessed too much talent, and attracted 
too much attention, to pass unnoticed by 
the Britons. They dropped the E, and put 



134 



HIBERN1A; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



the iu the wrong place, and, with his j 
name thus mutilated, he was claimed as 
English — and in this way has that fame, 
to which Ireland is so justly entitled, 
been pilfered from her, and that, too, by 
the natives of an insignificant island, 
whose shores are washed by the waters 
of the Irish sea. O'Byrne wrote of his 
wandering child, but so obscurely that 
we are unable to tell any thing about it 
except that he, if a boy, was a wanderer, 
and looked "very much like his father ;" 
on the whole, he was a man of some 
force and ability. We copy some of the 
craziest of his verses, as most likely to 
please and instruct the reader who turns 
to the next chapter. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

Life too short — Great Undertakings not to be 
attempted — Ancient and Modern Greeks — 
Architecture — Painting — Eloquence — Poetry 
— The great O'Byrne again — He tells us of his 
Ancestors — Specimens of his Verses — History 
— Cleopatra — Her Smile — A Warning — Med- 
dlesome Gods — He Moralizes — Wandering 
Thoughts— The Farce, the Tragedy, and the 
Transformation Scene — More Wandering — 
Over the Deep — The Struggle — The Victory — 
Universal Liberty — God's Decree — Friendship 
and Amnesty — Statesmanship and Statues — 
Dum Vivimus Vivamus — Native Composure — 
The Song of the Bullfrog— Drifting — Rocks and 
Ruins. 

It is a misfortune that man cannot 
live, as in the olden times, to the age of, 
say, one thousand years — then the work 
important enough to be undertaken at 
all, he might devote some time to, 
and reasonably hope to finish ; further- 
more, a man with the experience of 
nine hundred and fifty years at his back 
would, perhaps, be able to display more 
or less prudence and wisdom during the 
last half century of his existence on 
earth ; but, alas, we are limited to an 
insignificant century, and that anything 
but a certainty. 



As it is with man, so is it with na- 
tions ; they have their infancy, their ma- 
turity, aud their old age. And though 
they do, as a rule, live longer than men, 
they have no time to waste on fruitless 
and dangerous experiments, such, for 
instance, as allowing a man, or combi- 
nation of men, unlimited power over 
the people and their money, for the pur- 
pose simply of deciding whether or not 
they will abuse that power ; and of learn- 
ing precisely the extent of his ambition, 
his avarice, and his pride. The knowl- 
edge thus sought, if finally obtained, is 
not worth the risk, and experiments like 
the one in question (if history furnishes 
anything to judge by), will invariably 
be followed by the overthrow of liberty 
and the enslavement of the people. Such 
an experiment is now in progress in New 
York. A few citizens, taken from the 
humbler walks of life, were selected for 
the test, and it was fondly hoped that 
they would be found able to restrain 
their passions, and keep their desires 
within due bounds ; but, alas, they have 
already absorbed and taken to them- 
selves city lands and country lands, 
palaces in town, villas in the country, 
equipages of royal magnificence, lakes, 
water-courses, and millions in money. 
And yet do these men, once so humble, 
seek to add still more to their already 
vast possessions. It is now predicted 
that they will not stop until they have 
swallowed up all and everything, and 
that, at last, they will be found entering 
Symm's Hole, howling, " More ! more ! 
more ! " It seems doubtful if even the 
citizens of New York, though intent 
upon putting the matter to a fair and 
complete test, have either the forbear- 
ance or the patience to allow it to go 
much farther. 

The ancestors of the Irish, who were 
Greeks, and many of them women, are 
noted for many things. They excelled 



H1BERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



135 



iii architecture, as do the rulers of New 
York to-day, for even their stables are 
palaces, which will excite the wonder of 
coming generations, if they do not stir 
the wrath of the people of the present. 
At painting the human face they excel 
the ancient masters. Some are happy 
in the delineation of one feature, some 
another ; but none fail in their efforts to 
impart to the nose a color vivid, strik- 
ing, and conspicuous. Their eloquence is 
always received with the deafening ap- 
plause of those paid to render that kind 
of service, and who are selected with a 
view to the strength of their lungs, their 
lawlessness, and their aversion to honest 
labor. 

It is a gloomy reflection that in poetry 
they have somewhat declined, and they 
take more pleasure in the figures found 
in the arithmetic than those of fancy ; 
but we can go back to the poet O'Byrne, 
and wander with him through the mazes 
of philosophy, poetry, and romance. 
When he sang of Greece, he felt that 
he was laying before the world the his- 
tory of his ancestors ; and hence that 
earnestness and soul that characterizes 
his verses. In a dreamy mood he tells of 

The busy present and the shadowy past, 
The deeds of men — vain phantoms all at last. 
Swiftly along time's ever- flowing stream 
We glide, and life is but a fleeting dream : 
To-day we laugh with joy or weep with 

sorrow, 
And prate about the prospects of the morrow. 

To-morrow ! Do you claim it ? 'Tis at most 
A myth — a baseless phantom, flitting ghost ; 
Intangible as are the visions — vain 
Creations of a weak, distempered brain. 
Life is a delicate and transient flower 
We have — 'tis all we have — the present hour. 

The centuries of the past, Time ! The long 

years 
Filled with the deeds of man, his hopes and 

fears. 
Ay ! more than that ! His weakness and his 

crime 
Fill history, staining every age and time. 



Even Rome, with all her majesty and power, 
What was she but the creature of an hour. 

Then he launches into history, and we 
learn how 

The tyrant Tarquin sacrificed Lucrece, 

And busy politicians ruined Greece. 

Mark Anthony, though thought at first a true 
man, 

Staked all — even life and honor — for a wo- 
man, 

Became her slave ; did everything to please 
her — 

This man, who talked so handsomely of 
Caesar. 

In the verses of an Irishman a wo- 
man is certain, sooner or later, to fig- 
ure. And O'Byrne was no exception 
to the rule. He tells us of Cleopatra, 
and says she was 

A dark-browed beauty Queen, but still a 

woman, 
And Anthony a Roman chief, but human ; 
And to be human means, alas ! to yield, 
When woman, armed with beauty, takes the 

field. 
The General was of the heroic style, 
But still the man was conquered by a smile. 

Of her smile, he says : 

No common smile, for well she played her 

part — 
'Twas royal game ; she understood the art, 
And held her victim chained, as by a spell. 
But why upon the painful subject dwell ? 
They died together disappointed — frantic ! 
A solemn end, but none the less romantic. 

And then he warns his fellow-man, as 
follows : 

Boast not, vain man, your virtue or your 

power, 
As good as you have in an evil hour 
As little strength as Anthony displayed. 
The road to ruin has an easy grade — 
Those who would visit Pluto's dread abode 
Will always find a broad, convenient road. 

He takes special delight in depicting 
the exploits of his ancestors, as well as 
the disasters heaped by the meddlesome 
gods upon them : 



136 



HIBERNIA ; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD VER. 



Perhaps the facts I state should all be dated ; 
Critics may saj r they are at random stated. 
Paris, with handsome Helen, ran away — 
Nor do I care to name the year or day — 
And Greece at once felt it her right and duty 
To go to war about the stolen beauty. 

And all the gods and goddesses were present, 
But still it proved a struggle most unpleas- 
ant. 
I will not dwell upon the story. You know 
How Mars and Venus, Jupiter and Juno, 
Like mortals, showed partiality or pity, 
How Hector's corpse was dragged around the 
city. 

Of trying scenes they had a great variety. 
Old Nestor talked of wisdom and propriety ; 
Achilles caused disorder and much distress, 
When ordered to give up a pretty mistress ; 
Jove's lightnings flashed, the atmosphere 

grew thick, 
And many thousands of the Greeks were 

sick. 

The dead by scores lay stretched upoon the 

field, 
But still the angry chief refused to yield ; 
They sacrificed whole hecatombs of cattle, 
But failed in health, and failed in every bat- 
tle ; 
The gods and goddesses gave their assistance 
To Troy, and Priam made a stout resistance. 

Perhaps, dear reader, I have been digressing, 
Led off by great events and scenes distressing. 
Upon this fruitful subject I could dwell, 
If time permitted, long enough to tell 
How much the Trojan people were enraptured 
Over a wooden horse which they had captured. 

And how they bore it in with acclamation, 
And how it proved a fatal speculation ; 
How, in the night, it opened, and let out 
A score of Greeks all armed, who raised a 

shout, 
Then fell upon the people of the city, 
And slaughtered them without remorse or 

pity. 

And then he moralizes : 

That men have always acted just like men 
In days of yore or now, no matter when — 
In ancient times or modern — all I claim 
Is, that their conduct has been much the 

same. 
And here we have another fruitful topic 
To vex the wise, employ the philanthropic. 

And he sometimes entertains doubts — 



Much that I read I really am not able 
To believe, it sounds to me so much like fable. 
That Romulus, for instance, and his brother,. 
Had a she-wolf to nurse them like a mother ; 
Or that Adonis spurned bright Venus' kisses, 
And all about the wanderings of Ulysses. 

And many strange accounts of Greeks an^ 

Greece, 
With Jason seeking for the golden fleece. 
And how one Hercules performed ; and how 
Theseus destroyed a most destructive sow ; 
With much about the ancient hero's wrath 
When he beheld the monster in his path. 

And then we have the story of Deucalion, 
With games Olympic, mysteries bacchanalian ; 
Stoics and cynics, doctrines Pythagorean, 
Syrens and nymphs, and regions hyperborean; 
Phaeton, who drove, permitted by his sire, 
That dangerous team, and set the world on 
fire. 

— but, on the whole, he finds himself in- 
structed. 

And modern times remind me of the past, 

' ' For history repeats itself, at last ; " 

And now, as then, man plays a desperate 

game — 
Willing to wade through blood to power and 

fame. 
We have our demagogues and politicians, 
Wise men and fools, astrologers, magicians. 

Quacks and imposters, now and then a brave 
And true man, many a paltering slave ; 
Sophists, fanatics, men enthusiastic, 
False tongues, false weights, and consciences 

elastic ; 
With "Coup d'Etat,'' and stratagems of 

state, 
And tricks of ancient and of modern date. 

And revolutions, red with human gore. 
Where slaughter rages, crying still for more,. 
Till men, grown reckless 'midst the blood 

and strife, 
Despise the dead, and jest at human life. 
The ancients butchered men as we do cattle — 
What an improvement is a modern battle. 

For while they with their spears and short- 
swords trifled, 

We have our howitzers and cannon rifled ; 

They had instructors — very skillful tutors — 

But had no minnie rifles, or six-shooters. 

They did their best, and should not be de- 
spised, 

For they were barbarous — we are civilized. 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



137 



The pomp and circumstance of glorious war, 
Fine poetry ; the blood-devouring maw 
Of murder and of carnage must be filled. 
So man is uniformed, and armed and drilled, 
And when his orders are to kill, how willing 
He seems. Are not men fond of killing ? 

And is it true ? Do men enjoy the flow 
Of human blood ? I fain would answer no, 
But I have seen the lawless crowd excited ; 
Wild in their joy, and clap their hands, de- 
lighted 
Over a victim weltering in his gore — 
One drop of blood gives appetite for more. 

He will be prodigal of human life, 
Grow warlike when he hears a drum and fife ; 
Adorn himself with buttons, lace, and gilt, 
Proud of his plumes, and sword with glitter- 
ing hilt ; 
Boast that he is defender of the law ; 
• ' Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw. ' ' 

Oh, glorious war ! the grandeur of the battle, 
The clashing steel, the roar, the deafening 

rattle ; 
The smoke, the dust, riderless chargers flying 
Over the field, the ghastly dead, the dying, 
The harvest under foot, the fields all gory, 
Death, agony, destruction — this is glory ! 

In vain the wife will linger at the gate 
To watch and weep ; time will reveal his fate. 
Surviving comrades, they at last will tell 
How her dear idol bravely fought and fell ; 
He nobly died and left a glorious name ; 
Thus do they talk, but what to her is fame? 

The mind of man is not always obe- 
dient and tractable, but will sometimes 
wander in spite of the wishes or the will 
of its possessor ; and the author of this 
volume falters in his effort to put a great 
people properly before a world anxious 
to clap its hands and shout as soon as 
the curtain rises. But the duty of tear- 
ing it aside, and disclosing that perform- 
ance, which should so deeply interest 
every citizen, remains with the people 
themselves. We can do no more than 
give them a few hints, and a " peep be- 
hind the scenes," and that which looks 
like a farce to-day, and may be a trag- 
edy to-morrow, will go on or not, as they 
decide. But the transformation scene is 



what we have to dread — the Temple 
of Liberty crumbling and falling ; the 
Constitution torn into ribbons ; anarchy 
rampant ; the laws trampled under foot ; 
devastation ; conflagration ; murder ; 
ruin ; then the silence of death, followed 
by despotism. But these things are not 
to come yet, for the people are beginning 
to look up, and soon will the enemies of 
law and order, of justice and honesty, call 
for the rocks and the mountains to fall 
on them — for the storm which is soon 
to overwhelm them already mutters in 
the distance, aud we may still hope, but 

My soul departs, is wandering far away ; 
Scenes of the past, heart-cheering visions play 
Before me ; now the snowy-crowned Tejon ; 
Grand mountains are around me, and alone 
And undismayed amidst the gloom I staud ; 
Joy fills my heart — it is my native land ! 

Emblem of Liberty ; an Eagle soars 
Above my head ; below a torrent roars ; 
And now the storm breaks round me with a 

crash, 
The mountains tremble, lightnings hiss and 

flash ; 
The black wolf hides, the panther seeks his 

lair, 
The storm king rides triumphant through 

the air. 

Huge rocks far down the mountain side are 

cast, 
The tall pines bend and writhe beneath the 

blast ; 
Cloud-piercing peaks on every side I see. 
Which seem to laugh in wild tempestuous 

glee; 
The storm descends, the tempest and the gale 
Sweep down and break resistless on the vale. 

Oh, pride ! thou gilded fascinating crime, 
Tyrant of every age, of every clime ; 
The wisest dare not spurn thee, while the fools 
Become thy slaves, thy victims, or thy tools. 
Fickle, inconstant, whimsical and vain. 
We hate, despise thee, yet permit thy reign. 

A deadly venom lingers in thy breath, 

Want, poverty and sorrow, murder, death, 
Are all thy children ; suffering and grief 
Implore thee, and all vainly, for relief ; 
Content in folly's glittering robes to shine, 
Love, pity, are no attributes of thine. 



138 



HIBERNIA; OB, IBELAND THE WOBLD OVEB. 



The passions pure that virtuous hearts reveal, 
The love that innocence alone may feel, 
Affections neither to be sold or bought, 
Incapable of mercenary thought ; 
The noblest qualities of age and youth, 
Charity, honor, bravery, and truth. 

How are they valued? As a scornful jest ; 
I pity thy mean votaries, the test 
Which you apply to men, the good disdain, 
And scorn to follow in thy tinseled train ; 
Mammon had servile worshippers of old, 
To-day the God of half the world is gold. 

Vain is the struggle ; and, in the 
meantime, the Irishman is neglected. 

Over the deep — the wild temptuous deep — 
Onward our good ship dashes ; with a leap 
She springs from wave to wave, her scanty 

sail 
Trimmed for the storm, she flies before the 

gale. 
On every side the seething, raging waves, 
Above, around the howling tempest raves. 

A waste of wild confusion — now the night 
Brings gloom, and gives new grandeur to the 

sight. 
The sea a black, impenetrable lake ; 
Above my head the lurid lightenings brake. 
Blow on ! I cry, I love the tempest roar, 
And winds that waft me to my native shore. 

My native land ! her mountains and her 

vales ; 
Her lakes transparent — swept by western 



Her streams that wander, laughing, to the sea ; 
And you, my countrymen, proud, daring, free. 
My heart turns to you, wander where I will, 
"In spite of all your faults, I love you still." 

I thank the great Creator who did give 
Blessings, all undeserved — still do I live, 
And truth is still triumphant in the fight ; 
'Tis past, and smiling, victory crowns the 

right. 
No slave, nor clanking chain, nor Bondman's 

wail, 
But songs of freedom freight the balmy gale. 

Grand contest midst the ringing clash of arms 
Wars, desolation, and the dread alarms 
Of battles bravely fought ; their fetters fell 
Shattered. The Southron war-cry was the 

knell 
Of slavery ; and a bleeding, suffering race, 
Among the sons of men demand a place. 



Would you deny them ? puny man beware ! 
Look to the past— the hand of God is there ; 
The prophet's word is verified. The rod 
Is broken ; "Ethiopia looks to God." 
The oppressor's chain shall break — such his 

decree, 
And lo ! the toiling millions now are free. 

Americans stand frowning at each 
other, while demagogues deceive and im- 
pose upon the people, trample the Con- 
stitution under foot, and prey upon the 
treasury. In that struggle which result- 
ed in Independence, South Carolina and 
Massachusetts stood side by side, and 
the blood of the Northerner and South- 
erner mingled in one crimson stream. 
That they stand scowling at each other 
to-day, is a crime condemned by good 
men and abhorred of the gods — 

Life at best is a transient state, 
With not a moment to spare for hate. 

And nothing is more unprofitable than 
a hatred, which eats into the soul like 
a canker. 

Let us have peace and 

AMNESTY. 

Come, bury the hatchet, be friendly again, 

Let by-gones be by-gones forever ; 
Shall we scowl at each other like ill-natured 
curs ? 
And resolve to be Mends again — never ! 
Shall we ponder and mourn over deeds that 
are past, 
To anger the fleeting years giving ? 
Shall we wrangle and fight 'mongst the 
graves of the dead, 
Forgetting the rights of the living ? 

No ; men of the North greet the 
men of the South — 
Take hands ; in delay there is 
danger ; 
For a rabble will rule, and your 
own native land 
Will pass into the hands of 
the stranger. 

Have you wrongs in the South, then they 
shall be redressed, 
And your rights they shall not be denied 
you; 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



139 



Impulsive and brave, so they say in the 
North, 
You are, and they know, for they tried you. 
Once the Huguenot fought by the Puritan's 
side, 
Gaining victories shoulder to shoulder ; 
Our fathers were friends — let us learn to be 

wise, 
As the swift flying years make us older. 

Come men of the South greet 
the men of the North — 
See Columbia weeps, melan- 
choly ; 
Insulted, controlled by a vile 
vulgar crowd, 
Who profit, alas, by your 
folly. 

Come fill up a bumper, and fill to the brim, 

Let us issue the grand proclamation ; 
The past and its errors shall vex us no more, 

Then drink one and all to the nation. 

And then let us honestly work to secure 

The blessings qf peace for each other ; 

Let the men of the North greet the men of 

the South, 

And each find in the other, a brother. 

Take hands, and then speak to 
the ravenous crowd, 
In a voice like the rattling 
thunder — 
Yes ; and banish the knaves 
who misgovern us now, 
And who fatten on falsehood 
and plunder. 

The misinanagement of which we com- 
plain, though local now, may not remain 
so. Men whose souls are as black as 
crime can make them, are looking with 
longing eyes to the Capital of the nation ; 
an honest administration is to them a 
standing reproof. They hate it, for it 
only makes them look the blacker by 
contrast. To overthrow it is their hope ; 
to seize the national government is their 
ambition ; but if the wisdom of man 
shall fail us, we trust that the God who 
led our armies through years of battle, 
bloodshed and death, to victory, will not 

permit it. 

The statesman who can and will sub- 
due the anger of his countrymen, and 



persuade them to meet as the heroes of 
both North and South met in the first 
great struggle — shoulder to shoulder, 
and under one flag — will secure for him- 
self the love and gratitude of a great 
nation. The people will sing songs to 
his praise, and when he dies will raise 
statues to his memory — a distinction 
which they grant with caution, for they 
refused, in at least one instance, to allow 
a man, who had been taught by low flat- 
terers and sycophants that he was great, 
such an honor. They reasoned thus on 
the subject of — 

THE STATUE. 
Go to the quarry, marble bring, 

And fashion it with skill and care, 
Then on a lofty pedestal 

Raise it conspicuous in the air ; 
There let the statesman's godlike form 
Through countless ages brave the storm. 

What were his virtues ? Has he been 

A light to our aspiring youth ? 
From his example have they learned 

To shun disgrace and cling to truth ? 
Full many a youth has gone astray — 
Did this, our Caesar, lead the way ? 

What were his virtues ? Has he been, 
Though tempted often, honest still ? 

The oaths he took, were they all kept ? 
Did he his promises fulfil ! 

Did he in power display his might 

Upon the side of truth and right? 

What were his virtues ? Was to him 
The public treasure lawful spoil ? 

Say ! did he hoard ill-gotten wealth, 
While honest men were doomed to toil ? 

A statue he shall have, but we 

Will dictate what its form shall be. 

If he was just, and brave and true, 

A lion in the cause of right, 
True to his flag and fellow-man — 

Raise a fair statue in our sight ; 
On history's page his virtues write 
In golden letters clear and bright. 

But was he cunning, treacherous, false? 

Then let him hide himself, to rotten 
Like a foul worm beneath the sod, 

His name scorned, hated, or forgotten. 
Let infamy his statue raise — 
No honest man will sing kin praise. 



140 



HIBERN1A; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



To attend promptly and industriously 
to business, and the serious affairs of 
life, is an imperative duty ; but those 
sacred obligations which every citizen is 
under to the State must not be neglected, 
for liberty can only be preserved by un- 
tiring watchfulness. Neither our public 
nor private duties should be neglected, 
nor need they be ; for we have time to 
attend to both, and still have leisure to 
be happy with our friends, quaff our 
wine, and sing 

"DUM VIVIMUS VIVAMUS." 

Why yield to complaining and sorrow ? 
Give to joy and to pleasure full sway ; 
What to us are the pains of to-morrow, 
If Dame Fortune is smiling to-day ? 

Still ahove us the bright sun is 
shining, 
While we live let us live, is 
the rule ; 
He who gives up his time to 
repining 
And tearful regrets is a fool. 

If the past had its sorrows forget them, 

View the future with hope and a smile ; 
Have friends left us, then cease to regret 

them, 
Let the present our spirits beguile. 

For swiftly the moments are 
flying, 
And life is a dream at the 
most, 
Too short to be wasted in sigh- 
ing— 
While we live let us live, be 
the toast. 

We cannot all be the favored ones of 
fortune, nor all live and move within 
the limits of that magic circle "the 
Ring." If we could we should all be rich, 
though we might not be happy ; looked 
up to, feared and applauded, though we 
might be vulgar and corrupt. In short, 
we cannot all be rulers, above the law, 
beyond the reach of justice, holding the 
people by the throat, and with the pub- 
lic treasury in our pockets ; nor are we 
sure that it is desirable, though there 



are those who imagine that to be favored 
as we have indicated, is to be blest. We 
often meet near the City Hall, in New 
York, a square-built but not a graceful 
man, with a dyed mustache, a white hat, 
patent-leather boots, yellow kids, a cane, 
a solitaire pin, diamond studs, diamond 
sleeve-buttons, diamond rings, a repul- 
sive face, and more diamonds — and he 
pretends to be happy, and passes from 
one office to another, singiug as though 
a total stranger to sorrow, 

A DREAM OF NEW YORK. 
Air — " / Dreamt I Dwelt in Marble Halls." 

I dreamt I dwelt at 0. K. Hall's, 

In a mansion rich and grand, 
And oft assembled within those walls 

The leaders of the band. 
I dreamt that I held an office too, 

And had pay and many a fee ; 
And I dreamt of riches, and thought I was 

The pet of Tammany. 

The pet, the pet of Tammany, 
The pet, the pet of Tammany. 

I dreamt that suitors seeking place 

Were daily at the door, 
And I thought as soon as some were 
served 
The house was filled with more ; 
And I dreamt that one of the anxious crowd 

Came down with his cash to me, 
And he got the place he sought, for I 
Was the pet of Tammany. 

The pet, the pet of Tammany 
The pet, the pet of Tammany. 

Demoralization follows fraud in high 
places — oue crime begets many more — 
until whole communities become tainted 
or depraved. But the most mournful 
of all is to behold the youth of the 
land dazzled, corrupted, and led astray 
by a pernicious example. To have 
the millions paid into the treasury 
by the people stolen and squandered is 
a misfortune, but the country can spare 
those millions better than the earnest, 
honest, and patriotic support of the 
coming; men of America. What can 



HIBERNIA; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD OVER. 



141 



the State expect in the way of support 
from 

A FAST YOUNG MAN. 

He reads " the sporting news " each day, 

Affects new words to coin. 
And looking languid, drawling says, 

' ' Awfellar ! Y-e-s. Bern foin ! ' ' 

His father is " The Governor," 

And this young man so nice, 
Is ready to suggest to him, 

Or give him good advice. 

Before the bar he firmly stands, 
And calls for " whiskey sour,'' 

And shows his pluck by pouring down 
A dozen in an hour. 

He talks of virtue, which he deems 

A very foolish whim, 
And sermons on morality 

Are " such a bore ' ' to him. 

He loves a woman whom he calls 

The comfort of his life, 
She sports her silks and diamond set, 

But she is not his wife. 

The friends who flutter round him are 

Too numerous to tally, 
And favorites he has among 

The beauties of the ballet. 

He twirls the end of his mustache 

Into a graceful twist, 
And wonders how the ladies can 

Such stunning charms resist. 

His coat is cut with greatest care, 

His pants the latest style, 
And when he walks the street he wears 

A most bewitching smile. 

And nightly at the opera 

This charming youth you meet, 

Where he is sure to occupy 
An L-E-G-ble seat. 

Between the acts, the curtain down, 

The time that intervenes 
He uses to investigate 

Affairs behind the scenes. 

He rides and revels, drinks and plays, 

And calls it recreation ; 
Then tells his anxious mamma, how 

He hates all dissipation. 



Demure and quiet through the day, 

But active after dark, 
Strange antics he is said to cut 

When "out upon a lark.'' 

Years swiftly pass, devoted all 

To "Gay and festive" scenes. 
At last the youth is threatened with 

A failure of his means. 
And should his cash at last give out, 

Why then he plays the shirk, 
For pride and indolence forbid 

That he should ever work. 

Ambition lures him to become 

A speculator bold, 
A friend suggests that he invest 

In fancy stocks and gold. 

Dame Fortune frowns, his money lost, 

He grumbles at his luck ; 
While knowing ones are heard to say, 

" There goes a crippled duck." 

And when his friends begin to look 
With cold, suspicious glances, 

He understands the cause full well, 
And freely ' ' takes the chances. ' ' 

A good man's name he has been known 

To use without permission, 
For want of money puts him in 

A desperate condition. 

In seedy clothes, while blossoms red 

Now decorate his nose ; 
Accused of crime, his race at last 

Is drawing to a close. 

Friends, money, honor, all are are lost ; 

He now bemoans his fate. 
Year after year, in prison garb, 

He labors for the State. 

But the Irishman, what are we to do 
about him ? He, by his own conduct, 
makes the question a difficult one to 
answer — in spite of emigration and nat- 
uralization, he continues to be an Irish- 
man ; he loves the laud of his birth; 
he sings the songs of his youth, which is 
right. We are glad to know that the 
blood dances through his veins at the 
music of Lanagan's Wake, and Donny- 
brook Fair ; but there is one thing he 
should remember, America is not yet 
Ireland. Free and equal her people must 
remain — no special privileges to any 



142 



EIBERNIA ; OR, IRELAND THE WORLD VER. 



creed or nationality — no squandering of 
the public money on any sect. The 
public treasures must be used only for 
the benefit of the general public. Those 
who hate the public schools, must not 
control them — and the purity of the 
ballot-box must be maintained at the cost 
of blood, if bad men will have it so. 
New York belongs to the nation — 
every encroachment upon the right of 
suffrage there is a dangerous crime, and 
as much a wrong upon the citizen of 
California or Oregon, as it is upon the 
man who lives in New York. The peo- 
ple of the city perplex us by their indif- 
ference to great questions, their patience 
under great wrongs, and sometimes we 
feel half inclined to go back to the 
country, where we may hoe our corn 
all day, and at night sit quietly out on 
the old porch, and listen, as it comes 
floating to us from the distant pond, to 

THE SONG OF THE BULL-FROG. 

Down where the water-lilies bloom, 
And the long green rushes grow, 
When the old brown mill is hushed and still, 

And the fire-flys flit and glow. 
I watch for the gathering shades of night, 
When the owl is heard, and the stars are 
bright. 

Then do I murmur, 
Come out, come out, 
Joy of my heart, let us roam 

about, 
And echo answers from far and 

near, 
Come, let us roam about. 

Out on a floating log I sit, 

When the night is bright and still, 
But I listen not to the watch-dog's bark, 

Nor the murmur of the rill. 
For I'm thinking then of my mate so fair, 
And my song I give to the evening air. 
And I gently murmur, 
Come out, come out, 
Pride of the pond, let us roam 

about, 
And echo answers from far and 

near. 
Come, let us roam about. 



Echo answers, but where is she ? 

For the farm-house windows shine 
With a cheerful light, yet I miss her song, 
And she answers not to mine. 
And I hear the night winds moan and sigh r 
And I murmur still as they whisper by. 
Yes ; sadly murmur, 
Come out, come out, 
Beautiful frog, let us roam 

about, 
And echo answers from far and 

near, ' 
Come, let us roam about. 

Dead where the lilies bloom she lies ; 

But the school boys, where are they ? 
Sleeping, they dream of the pelted frogs, 

Or the sports of the coming day 

But out on the log I am all alone, 

My mate is dead, and I sadly moan. 

And vainly murmur, 

Come out, come out, 

No more with me will she roam 

about, 
And echo sends me the sad re- 
ply. 
No more will she roam about. 

So does the American console him- 
self, but the Irishman remains intent 
on acquiring wealth and power. An 
ambitious and unprincipled few take ad- 
vantage of the indifference of the one 
and the hopes of the other, to accom- 
plish purposes wicked and dangerous to 
liberty. In the meantime, we find our- 
selves drifting with a current fast grow- 
ing into rapids, wild, uncontrollable, and 
destructive of the public prosperity — a 
wild torrent which must, unless checked 
in time, carry the ship of state upon 
the rocks of corruption, anarchy and 

RUIN. 
Lo the tempest gathers power — 
Now the threatening storm clouds lower, 
And the muttering thunders warn us 
Of the dark and dangerous hour. 
See Columbia sad and weeping, 
Sorrowing that her sons are sleeping, 
Darkness o'er the nation creeping. 

Still they slumber, 
Though untiring 
Foes are plotting 
And conspiring. 



EIBERNIA ; OR, IRELAND TEE WORLD VER. 



143 



" Public credit " — dissipated 

Crimes achieved or contemplated 

By a " Ring '' of desperadoes. 

Purse-proud, pompous and elated, 

Why should men kneel down before them ? 

Why should freemen beg, implore them ? 

Why not rise and scorch and score them ? 
Still we wait, while, 
With dirision, 
Brave men view 
Our indecision. 

" Public morals " — sins depraving 
Are the heart of youth enslaving — 
Men who spurn all honest labor ; 
Still the fruits of toil are craving 
On our very vitals, feeding 
While the public heart is bleeding ; 



Freemen, there is no receding. 

Blast the traitors ! 
Who unblushing, 
Honor under foot 
Are crushing. 

Rise, once more— truth, duty call you ; 

Shall their threats, their frowns appall you ? 

They are guilty ; guilt will falter. 

What ! shall cowards then enthrall you 

In their tracks f we see them slinking ; 

Even now behold them quaking ! 

Easy is the undertaking. 

Even now the 
Cowards tremble, 
Beg. equivocate, 
Dissemble. 

And we await further developments. 



THE END. 




|p^| *>-* A 



t.s^x^ ^-v. 




•'Barney Doodle, ha! ha! ha! \,/|)/y 
Swings his black-thorn handy; V 

B'gorra he's a better man )■, 

Than Yankee Doodle Dandy." 



L! 



THE TRADE SUPPLIED «V 

THE AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY, 



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